Enchanting Mr Darcy
by ConstanceSpark
Summary: In this reimagining of Elizabeth Bennet's four-day stay at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy wounds Lizzy's pride much worse than he has at the Meryton assembly, and that's even before she's first shown into the breakfast parlor! More misunderstandings lead to the tension between them rising, while a dark scheme is under way to put additional strain on their budding relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**CS: Dear reader, I'm currently working on my first full-length P &P novel, so bear with me as I work my way through the story. I'd really appreciate your every comment and just wanted to say a big THANK YOU for reading my words :)**

CHAPTER 1

It all started with a fire.

The staff at Netherfield Park had seen one too many fires in their years of service and still when an accident did happen, there never seemed to be a spare bucket of water at an arm's reach. True to custom, the last pail of water had just been poured into the large copper pot where veal was boiled for stock.

The cook, Mrs. Robins, was squinting through her looking glasses at the sparse instructions in her thick tome of recipes, trying to recall the right amount of parsley, which constituted "plenty". Of course, the favorable instrument resting at the tip of her plump nose had been a gift from her beloved mistress, the late Lady Seton, at Mrs. Robins' previous appointment. It afforded her a good deal of jealousy among the rest of the older staff at Netherfield, who could not afford such a luxurious aid for their failing eyesight. Thus engaged, Mrs. Robins wasn't vigilant enough of her latest charge, the new kitchen maid Nancy.

Nancy, in turn, wobbled under the weight of the heavy spade full of smoldering embers on her way to restock one of the stoves. She kept her eyes firmly trained on the smoking heap, oblivious to the rest of the traffic in the kitchen. At the same time, Peggy, a scullery maid tasked with rendering tallow, was carrying a large pot of bubbling fat, fresh from the stove, towards the candle molds in the scullery. Unaware of one another, the two maids crashed into a chaotic pile of banging metal, hissing tallow and crackling flames. Fortunately, both girls jumped back just in time to remain unscathed, if they disregarded the various-sized splotches of red burned skin across their forearms.

Disorder ensued at once as the flames caught the bunches of dry mint and basil piled in a stray crate on the floor. Before anyone could return to their senses from the shock and take action, a bottle of cooking alcohol exploded with a roar and spread the fire all over the western side of the kitchen. Only then did Mrs. Robins realize what a bad turn of luck it had been that she'd just used the last drop of water.

As the women started hastily ripping off their aprons and swatting helplessly at the spreading flames, a footman threw the last bit of crust from his unfinished breakfast on the table and scurried out towards the butler's pantry to announce the calamity. He only hoped that the butler, the stern Mr. Rowley, wouldn't take his wrath out on the messenger.

None of the commotion had reached the upper floors of Netherfield, where the family and their guest were having a quiet breakfast. Heaps of cakes and buttery rolls were lined on the table, along with plates of toast and a selection of cold cuts left over from last night's meal. Mr. Charles Bingley, the master of the house, and his brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, sat near the fire with long forks, toasting slices of bread in the fireplace. Mr. Bingley's two sisters, Miss Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Luisa Hurst, sipped their bitter chocolate at the table, while Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley's dearest friend, perused the Morning Chronicle without paying much interest to the small feast in front of him.

"Such dreadful weather!" Miss Bingley complained with a pronounced frown. "I can't bear to spend another day indoors! How are we to entertain our dear guest, Mr. Darcy, when all amenities have been denied to us? Even our house guest, Miss Bennet, is not proving much of a diversion."

"Don't be cruel, Caroline," Mr. Bingley said. "You don't expect poor sick Jane to be in any form to entertain you, now, do you?"

"But please, Charles," Miss Bingley snorted. "You're being unfair. I can see right through her little ploy. If she can design such an elaborate scheme to stay here overnight just to be in your vicinity, I dare say, she could be quite the entertaining little damsel."

"Now you're the one wanting for fairness, dear sister," Mr. Bingley said. "You have to admit Jane was only responding to your kind dinner invitation. I see her employing no scheme. She would have had no way of knowing the rain would render her indisposed. We have only done the appropriate thing to ask her to stay with us until she recovers her strength."

"Still, Charles, what sort of lady chances a trip on horseback in such weather?"

"The sort that doesn't want to appear rude and turn down an invitation just because of an overcast sky."

"I see, dear brother, that you're set on defending Miss Bennet and would not listen to reason, regardless of how sound my arguments might be. Frankly, even this conversation is starting to bore me. How I wish something extraordinary would happen right this moment to save us all from the need to discuss such dull subjects!"

Miss Bingley had hardly finished expressing her desire when the doors to the breakfast room flew open and a flushed-looking Mr. Rowley approached the table, mumbling excuses for interrupting the family's meal.

"I'm afraid, sir, that there's been an incident in the kitchen."

"What sort of incident?" Miss Bingley asked, her voice fluttering with excitement.

"A fire. I've engaged all the staff in trying to put a stop to it, but my recommendation is for you to step out into the garden until the house is deemed safe again."

"Have you lost your mind, Rowley?" Miss Bingley said indignantly. "In case it has escaped your attention, the weather does not permit any stepping outside right now."

"How serious is this?" Bingley asked, disregarding his sister's comment.

"It's serious, I'm afraid," the butler panted. "The fire has spread to the scullery and the larder, but I can assure you we are doing our best to contain it. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"This is horrifying!" Mrs. Hurst screeched, clutching her necklace and rising to her feet. "I've heard stories of houses burning right to the ground in a matter of hours! In fact, just this past autumn, our London neighbor Mrs. Fernside was telling me how her niece had lost her entire estate—house, stables and all—in less than an hour!"

"And here I was, wondering why it's become so unbearably hot in here," said an abundantly sweating Mr. Hurst and started fanning himself with the stray pages of the Chronicle he grabbed from the edge of the table.

"Could it be because you're sitting right by the fireplace?" Mr. Darcy said, irritated that his morning paper had gone to such useless cause and was practically unreadable once Mr. Hurst's damp fingers had smeared the ink.

In the next minutes, when everyone in the room seemed overwhelmed with panic, Darcy was the only one to keep his composure. The ladies were fluttering about, inventing increasingly darker scenarios of the fire obliterating Netherfield, but failing to decide on any action themselves. Bingley had run downstairs to confirm the gravity of the situation. Mr. Hurst was doing his best to console his despairing wife who was convinced she had mere moments left to live.

"We should go out at once!" Bingley called from the door, pungent smoke wafting in from the hallway above his head. "We are only lucky it's raining profusely outside. Quick! Through the French doors!"

"I'm not going anywhere without my jewels," Miss Bingley declared and ducked past her brother and into the smoky depths of the house.

"And my dresses?" Mrs. Hurst shrieked and followed her sister.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" Mr. Hurst sighed laboriously. "Could there be anything less predictable than a woman's shallow ways?" Continuing to complain, he shuffled after his wife, hoping to stop her before she had jeopardized her life in the name of fashion.

"Darcy," Bingley said, "at least you be sensible enough to leave the house before it's too late."

Darcy put down his paper and regarded his friend with a crooked smile.

"For all the clamor and grave prophesies, I was beginning to think we're doomed in any case, but if you insist, I'll humor you and get some fresh air. Are you going to join me?"

"Not before I ensure Miss Bennet's safety. Poor Jane is probably sleeping, not suspecting a thing. But you go ahead. I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to any of my two precious guests."

Bingley disappeared so fast that Darcy didn't get the opportunity to ask him if he'd need his assistance. On second thought, he realized Bingley would look better in his lady's eyes if he was her sole hero and rescuer, so he headed for the main entrance. He could hear shouting and clattering from downstairs but didn't see any flames eating into the ground floor. He was slightly annoyed that all the staff was occupied with the fire and he needed to go through the trouble of locating his hat and coat in the cloakroom and opening the front door himself.

Outside the rain bore down mercilessly on the drenched lawns, pebbled walkways, and fields beyond. Above, the sky was dominated by tumbling grays and silvers with not a hint that it might clear anytime soon. The large droplets splattered on Darcy's nose and chin and when even his hat didn't provide much protection against the raging weather, he decided to seek shelter in a gazebo just at the edge of the small pond on the far side of the front lawn.

He was squinting through the pounding torrents of rain as he made his way when something caught his attention. At this moment, anyone more superstitious than Darcy would have assumed that he'd seen a ghost. An ethereal figure was floating through the mist rising from the warm ground. By the way the ghostly form swayed from side to side, he could tell it was a woman and his heart fluttered with intrigue. Darcy followed the movements of the mysterious lady, tracing her steps through the park and towards the paved driveway that led to the front steps.

Who could be venturing out on foot in such weather? As far as he was informed, there was no other guest staying at Netherfield, apart from the sick Miss Bennet, who was undoubtedly resting in her bed, not roaming the gardens. Could it be a neighbor then? But on his riding trips around the estate, Darcy hadn't noticed any nearby homes. Why was this woman not in a carriage if she was visiting Netherfield?

Now she was so close to where he was standing, waiting to greet her and satiate his curiosity, that he could finally discern more of her features. Darcy suddenly felt his enthusiasm wane as he realized he'd been thoroughly mistaken. This was no lady at all! He'd allowed himself the folly of waiting for a mere peasant, a kitchen hand, from the looks of her.

The plain cape covering the woman was soaked through and through, indicating that she'd been walking for a while. From the looks of it, it wouldn't be impossible to assume she'd actually walked for miles. But what was more disturbing was that her face was barely visible under a thick coat of mud smeared across her cheeks, nose, and forehead. Brown rivulets of dirty rainwater were dripping from the wisps of curled hair stuck to her temples, leaving slimy streaks in their wake and sliding down the woman's equally filthy neck. Her shoes made the most offensive squeaking sound with every step she took and the entire front of her cloak was covered with clumps of wet dirt clinging to it. From what could be glimpsed of her gown and petticoat, one could easily conclude that the woman had either plowed through a field in the rain or had simply frolicked in the mud.

Darcy made a start to turn and remove any suspicion that he might be inclined to speak to the woman when he caught a glimpse of her eyes amid all the dirt covering her face. An involuntary shiver rocked his body, though he quickly attributed it to the miserable weather. In the back of his mind, however, a nagging notion that he was familiar with the set of deep brown eyes tormented him. He felt as if they tore straight into his very core. How was it even conceivable that he might know the eyes of a mere servant?

Surely enough, he knew of many a gentleman who engaged in various indiscretions with the help, but his pride, integrity and profound sense of social caliber precluded him from even considering such a vice. That ruled out the possibility that he'd ever attempted anything inappropriate with this servant girl. On the other hand, he paid such scarce attention to servants in general that his only concern was that his communication with them be deemed fair and civil. So, then, how did he tremble with recognition at the sight of this girl?

When he couldn't solve the enigma of those gleaming, oddly familiar eyes, Darcy became uncharacteristically agitated. The woman's squeaky steps sounded just inches behind him when he finally got a hold of himself and started walking briskly away. Out of his peripheral vision, he spotted her approaching the main entrance to Netherfield House. His agitation grew into something more intense and more overpowering. Perhaps it was a misplaced feeling of guilt over letting his mind linger on the woman for far too long.

"What has the world come to?" he cried out, giving way to his frustration. "If even the help is impertinent enough to disregard the simplest codes of conduct and use the front door, what is to come next? Perhaps a gentleman should leave his shoes out the back door, so as not to spoil the kitchen floor? If a fire means that all standards should be dropped, servants must be eager to set a fire or two every single day!"

Frowning and fuming, he didn't notice how the woman stopped in her tracks and shot a quick wounded glance in his direction. She parted her lips as if to speak but perhaps decided against it, because no words came out of her mouth as she changed course and headed for the back of the house.

Darcy instantly regretted his little outburst as it was thoroughly out of character for him who was naturally so composed. He blamed those flaming eyes for casting an evil spell on him and bringing him out of balance. He commanded himself to stop thinking about the woman and strolled along the sodden lawn.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

The arrival of an unexpected guest put even more strain on poor Mr Rowley who was barely managing to stay collected and direct the cacophony that went on in the kitchen. The fire had been swiftly put out, but not before it had caused a sizable amount of damage. Thankfully, a house as prominent as Netherfield could afford to replace any burnt chairs, crockery or spoiled foods in a matter of days.

"Yes please?" he said haughtily to the bedraggled woman standing at the doorstep of the servant's entrance. He couldn't fight slightly wrinkling his nose at the presumption that she was a beggar who'd come to seek leftovers from the masters' dinner table.

"Hello," a disconcertingly clear and pleasant voice sounded from under the mask of dirt that obscured the visitor's face. "I'm Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. I've come to visit with my sister Jane, who I believe is a house guest at Netherfield. I'm most embarrassed to present myself in such a state, but I've suffered a slight accident on my way here."

To Mr Rowley's amazement, Miss Bennet smiled charmingly, as if she found the entire situation amusing. Tactful enough not to ask any specifics of said accident or question Miss Bennet's failure to realize she wasn't calling at the right door, he ushered her in at once.

"Teresa, hurry over this instant," he called out urgently and when a young lady's maid came scurrying, Mr Rowley fired off a succession of instructions so long, it made the poor girl's head spin.

While the butler listed all that needed to be done to accommodate her arrival, Elizabeth took a moment to look around. The kitchen in Netherfield was much larger than Longbourn's but currently was in such a state of disarray that she'd much prefer the cozy, intimate atmosphere of her home's much more modest setup.

Of course Elizabeth couldn't be shown straight into the breakfast parlor with the large muddy droplets that splattered onto the floors in her wake and the wet footprints she involuntarily left behind her. Instead, Teresa escorted her to a guest room on the second floor, which despite its modest size was furnished more lavishly and elegantly than even the finest bedroom at Longbourn. Elizabeth was invited to change her drenched clothes there and wash herself before joining the family downstairs.

While waiting for the maid to return from the scullery with a jug of hot water, Elizabeth tiptoed to the window, trying to leave as little a trace as she could along the luxurious woven carpeting. Raindrops dribbled down the windowpanes, blurring the view of the park. As she stared out at the leaden sky, suddenly Elizabeth felt the surge of indignation fill her every pore again. Her cheeks flushed with fury at the mere thought of her encounter with Mr Darcy a few minutes ago.

How dare the man assume she was a servant! Had he been blind? Yes, she had tripped on her way through the marsh and ended up face down in a puddle of dirt, but if Mr Darcy could take one look at himself, he'd see he didn't look that prim either. With dripping wet hair plastered about his face and a frown so deeply grooved between his brows, he certainly looked nothing like the gentleman she'd been introduced to at the Meryton assembly.

Lizzy had tried her best to wash off the dirt in the pouring rain, but given the sticky, oily quality of the marsh soil, she'd soon realized she was only making it worse by smearing the grime all over her face. Still, she'd expected Mr Darcy to be able to see through her unlikely appearance and recognize her, given that they'd been formally introduced. At the very least, she'd expected him to show more civility to a stranger, be it that in his presumption she was his inferior.

When she'd secretly overheard him qualify her as plain at the Meryton assembly, she'd been sure she could only harbor dislike for the man. Now that he mistook her for a maid, her dislike grew into contempt and she vowed to herself that she'd only ever speak to him with the hidden aim of injuring his pride in return.

She should have set him straight right there on the spot, under the driving storm, but now she was glad she'd held off. Though she'd been struggling to maintain indifference towards Darcy ever since the assembly, now Elizabeth's blood boiled at the prospect of extracting suitable revenge for his arrogance. She was impatient to see his face once he realized his mistake and it became evident, even if just for the two of them, how lacking in character he'd acted.

A knock on the door brought her out of her fervent musings. Teresa walked in with two jugs of water, one cool and one steaming. The maid poured water from both of them into a third mixing jug until its temperature was pleasant rather than scalding and finally helped Elizabeth out of her muddy cape, gown, and shoes. Lizzy cupped her hands over the wash basin and Teresa tipped the jug just enough so that a trickle of water hit Lizzy's palms.

At last, Elizabeth thought as she held up her arms and let Teresa slip a clean petticoat and a plain light cream gown over her freshly scrubbed body. The borrowed clothes didn't entirely fit her shapely form, but she couldn't be too discerning. While Teresa was fixing her hair, Elizabeth was fighting to remain patient and reminded herself she should be grateful for the warm welcome she'd received so far. Apart from Darcy's intolerable treatment, that was. She longed for all the niceties to be over, so she could finally get to see her dear sister Jane. After all, that had been her chief purpose for walking three miles in the rainstorm to get to Netherfield.

Teresa led the way down the long corridor towards the stairwell at the far end. Elizabeth kept turning this way and that, straining her ears as she walked past the numerous closed doors for a chance to hear Jane's voice, but in vain. Given the sheer size of Netherfield, it was not unlikely that Jane's bedroom was on another floor or in a different wing altogether. She noticed that while she'd been freshening up, peace had once again been restored to the house and there was none of the previous commotion surrounding the kitchen fire.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," a footman announced her arrival before the freshly reassembled party in the breakfast parlor.

Elizabeth glided into the room, managing to make the most out of her ill-fitting outfit and avoid stumbling over the long skirts that brushed the floor around her dainty feet. Her breath caught at the sight displayed before her. Laughter bubbled at the back of her throat but she managed to suppress it despite the tickle in her nose. Nothing about her countenance betrayed the amusement of seeing the members of Netherfield house all but covered in soot and soaked in rainwater.

Apparently, while she'd been cared for upstairs, none of the hosts had managed to make it to their rooms to change but were otherwise occupied in areas of the house not spared by the fire. Of all, Miss Bingley seemed the one worst affected as the abundance of black stains smeared across her gown and petticoat were only matched by the savage marks of ash and dirt smudged into her cheeks. Mr. Darcy was not far behind with his dripping wet clothes and muddy shoes.

Everyone turned to stare at the vision in white that stood before them. Prim and proper, Elizabeth looked like royalty on a visit to a farmers' household. She only regretted Jane wasn't there to see the looks of astonishment written over the faces of her hosts though the sisters would surely share a giggle once she told her all about it.

"Miss Bennet!" Bingley finally broke the long stretch of embarrassing silence. With his cheerful, warm temperament, he acted as if he didn't look like a chimney sweep. "What a pleasant surprise! You must forgive the chaos and the state of our appearance as you've surely been informed we've been dealing with a sort of a crisis."

"I have, and am only too sorry to inconvenience you at such a time," Elizabeth said. She couldn't restrain herself from glancing sideways at Darcy to see if he'd made the connection with their earlier encounter.

Though she didn't know him well, she was willing to bet that the man's forehead would be burning crimson if he was at all capable of blushing. Instead, his lips were pressed into a thin line and appeared white with strain, while his eyes were firmly trained on the floor.

"My only intention was to check on Jane's condition," Elizabeth said, smiling at Bingley, "though I'm sure she's been more than well taken care of upon your kind invitation to stay at Netherfield until she recuperates."

Bingley rushed to assure her that despite the fire and the disagreeable weather, Jane had been excellently looked after. With a grimmer tone, he added that unfortunately her fever had persisted if not worsened overnight and he'd finally resorted to calling for Mr. Jones, the apothecary, to come see her later in the day.

"She slept right through the fire," he concluded, "for which we are grateful. We wouldn't want to add to her existing discomforts. In fact, since she is still resting, why don't you join us for a bit?"

The covert look that passed between Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst didn't elude Elizabeth. While their brother was kind and polite, they seemed cold and displeased with her presence. Elizabeth wasn't sure how to proceed and was glad that Mr Bingley was the one to rescue her again.

"If you'll excuse us, we are in dire need of changing," he said, "but I'll send for you to have breakfast, while you wait for our return."

"I will stay behind and keep Miss Bennet company," Darcy volunteered suddenly, spurring another round of concealed shocked looks between Caroline and Luisa.

"Very well," Bingley said in high spirits, then added tactfully, "I'll ask Mrs Preston, our housekeeper, to step in and attend to your needs."

As she watched the Bingleys and Hursts leave the room, Elizabeth felt her throat constricting with uneasiness. Darcy's offer to entertain her was the last thing she'd expected and now she felt trapped with a man she despised, but towards whom she was forced to behave courteously.

Thankfully, the housekeeper appeared almost as soon as the others left. Mrs Preston brought in a tray with fresh tea and toast and served it as if there had never been any disturbance to the house's natural morning rhythm. She busied herself around the table, seemingly accomplishing little as her actual purpose was not to clean up, but rather to chaperone.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy said in the end, his voice deep with remorse and his eyes finally making their way from the pattern on the carpet to Elizabeth's flushed face. "You must accept my deepest apologies for my earlier blunder. My only excuse is my bad judgment and the chaos with the fire that had obviously affected my clarity of thought."

Lizzy realized he was struggling to find his words and felt almost sorry for the man but quickly reminded herself of the humiliations he'd caused her. Still, she wouldn't let herself betray her actual feelings since she suspected his apology was only a means to clear himself of guilt.

"Rest assured I've already forgotten all about it," she said graciously.

"I insist you let me fix the fire, so you can warm up after your journey." Without waiting for her response, Darcy squatted by the fireplace and started poking expertly at the embers.

Elizabeth could hardly stifle a laugh. With the stain of water forming in Darcy's feet from his dripping clothes, he seemed much more in want of a good warm up. Still, she accepted the courtesy and approached the newly stoked fire. Darcy hurried to offer a stool for her to sit on. Another stretch of silence made Lizzy squirm with unease.

"I'd advise you don't stay so close to the fire," she said, "if it causes you such distress and lapse of judgment." She regretted her biting remark, but she couldn't help herself. She felt he hadn't suffered enough for injuring her pride.

"If I could further take advantage of your advice then, how do you suggest I improve my judgment in distinguishing a lady from a servant if the former is wearing a disguise?"

"I would not venture to advise you on such matters," Elizabeth said with a sly smile, "for I believe your standards for _plain_ versus refined are so firmly established that it would be hard for you to see through the disguise and evaluate in an unbiased manner."

Darcy was just about to snap back with a retort when something distracted him. Apparently, in his attempt to ensure her comfort, he'd placed Elizabeth's stool so close to the fireplace that the hem of her petticoat was now smoking upon contact with a stray chunk of glowing ember. His eyes grew large with apprehension for he could not afford to have his intentions misinterpreted. In the moment it took him to realize Lizzy's dress was indeed burning, Darcy had no time to weigh his options and did the first thing that his instinct dictated.

He swiftly jumped on top of Elizabeth, tumbling her off the stool and onto the floor, trapping her underneath his solid body. She gasped for breath from the surprise attack, unaware of what had caused it. She found her face just inches away from that of her companion but had no time to utter a sound as the doors to the parlor flew open and everyone bustled in to witness a most unlikely and compromising scene.


	3. Chapter 3

The moment of loaded silence, in which all present regarded the scandalous view, seemed to stretch unbearably. Finally, a wicked chuckle escaped Caroline's lips as she turned to Mrs Hurst in the hopes of finding an ally in mocking the misfortunate couple on the floor. Mrs Hurst was quick to raise her eyebrows in return.

"Ah, but Mr Darcy," Caroline said cheerfully, though her words were laced with bite, "if you'd intimated that this was the way you planned to entertain our dear Miss Bennet, we'd have no doubt left you in the hands of a sturdier chaperone, say Mr Rowley."

Mrs Preston blushed at once. She'd only turned for a moment before she'd heard the turbulence by the fireplace and found Elizabeth and Darcy entangled on the floor. The comedy of the situation wasn't lost on her, but she couldn't help but chastise herself for not rushing to the lady's rescue before such embarrassment even occurred.

Mrs Hurst giggled discreetly at her sister's wit, which only served to embolden Caroline further.

"And poor Miss Bennet," she said. "How does catastrophe befall you! We've only just admired your fashionable gown and here it is, mangled so prematurely. I can barely recognize you!"

Bingley shifted from foot to foot, ostensibly flustered by his sister's cruelty, but for all his effort, he couldn't find a tactful comment to diffuse the tension.

Elizabeth managed to recover from the shock first. A quick glance at Darcy told her he was desperate to erase the past few moments in the way he closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Clearly, the humiliation was enough to incapacitate him and he only thought to roll off her once Caroline was finished with her snide remarks.

Lizzy felt the warm wetness Darcy's rain-soaked body had left along her legs cool as his weight lifted. When she considered her dress, she saw Caroline had a good reason to mortify her on that account. The cream muslin was streaked with ash, dust and mud. Once again she looked like she'd been through a blight.

Somehow at the present moment that didn't concern her in the least. She'd had enough time to realize Darcy had acted out of chivalry and not aggression when he'd tackled her to the floor. Seeing him rise slowly to his feet and offer her his hand, she suddenly commiserated with his compromised dignity. In this particular moment, he deserved none of Caroline's derision. In fact, Miss Bingley was the one who should suffer for her utter lack of sensitivity.

Though she suspected she might soon come to regret it, Lizzy became determined to salvage Darcy's reputation. Forgetting all about her own perceived dishonor, she rose to her feet with the help of his effortless pull and smiled graciously at him.

"Mr Darcy," she said, "I must thank you for acting so promptly in ensuring my safety. If it weren't for you, I'd have surely joined my sister on the sickbed. I only wish Mrs Preston could more reliably convey your valiance in a moment of such unexpected distress for those who weren't here to witness it themselves."

Baffled that instead of cries for help he'd received kind gratefulness from Elizabeth, Darcy bent in a slight bow, then lifted his head to meet her eyes. The look that passed between them lasted all but a few seconds before Lizzy lowered her lashes bashfully. Yet, it was enough for a shared understanding to be exchanged. Darcy's previous offenses hadn't been forgiven or forgotten, but in the current moment, they were accomplices.

"It was my pleasure," Darcy said quietly.

"Pleasure indeed," Caroline scoffed, but her comment hung in the air so out of place and lacking in humor that she felt uncomfortable rather than gratified for opening her mouth.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Elizabeth continued as if she hadn't heard her, "I was hoping to visit Jane."

"But of course," Bingley said, finally regaining his faculties. "Mr Jones, the apothecary, should be here shortly to look in on her. Please, take advantage of his expertise if you're at all affected by this… incident. Mrs Preston, would you show Miss Elizabeth to Miss Bennet's room?"

Darcy followed Elizabeth's hasty exit with an indecipherable expression. However, his insides boiled as he watched her glide towards the door in the same haunting manner that he'd seen her float through the fields towards him earlier. Despite his effort to subdue the flickering of his heart, he couldn't deny what he was afraid to admit.

He was irrevocably drawn to a woman he'd never expected to even notice in a social setting. In fact, now it seemed mysterious to him how he'd simply qualified Elizabeth as plain at the Meryton assembly when it was becoming increasingly clear to him she was anything but.

It wasn't her beauty, he reasoned, for he'd remained aloof in the company of much more physically dazzling women. It definitely wasn't her social standing or her refinement. Could it have been just the way she was? Her candor, her energy, her presence?

He shook his head gloomily, for the last thing he'd come to Netherfield for was to chase a romantic interest. Still distracted, he accepted his friend Bingley's invitation to rejoin him at the breakfast table and salvage the remaining morning as best as they could.

Elizabeth took the cool cloth from the maid's hand and assured her she'd take over her duty. She ran the cloth over Jane's pale moist forehead and quieted down her own breathing to listen to her sister's raspy breaths.

Even in her peaceful sleep, Jane looked poorly and feverish. She had a bad cough and, as the maid informed her, an appetite so diminished, she could only take the most watery of soups.

Elizabeth was once again infuriated with their mother for having made poor Jane risk her health for a chance to stay at Netherfield overnight. From the looks of it, Jane would be in no capacity to leave the estate for at least another couple of days. Elizabeth hoped that her assessment would be soon disproved by Mr Jones who was due to visit any minute now.

Once the maid slipped out of the room as silently as a cat, Lizzy smoothed Jane's covers though they were already neatly tucked about the patient's body.

"Oh, Jane," she whispered despite the even rhythm of her sister's chest rising and falling, which told her she was still asleep. "I'm never setting foot downstairs again. If I could just lock myself in here with you, perhaps I could weather the embarrassment that has befallen me. I admire you for putting up with the condescending manner of those awful Bingley sisters, but I know it's only your nature not to pay heed to the most glaring of character flaws. I bet you've found their company pleasant and diverting. And that Mr Darcy… I hardly know what to make of his friendship with Mr Bingley, the latter's disposition being so genial and benign. Mr Darcy, however… I don't think I've met a man so impudent!"

"Ah, admit you're the slightest bit fond of him now," Jane wheezed through dry and cracked lips, her eyes still wearily closed.

"You've gone mad, Jane! And how treacherous of you to affect sleeping, while listening all along. I must tell you Mr Darcy has been most intolerable since I've arrived at Netherfield. His inclination to act superior is sickening and his arrogance almost palpable. I hope I should never be let to endure his company alone again."

"How impassioned you are when discussing a man you have no interest in," Jane commented with a sly smile. "I myself would grow wearied if I needed to exert so much effort in denying my attraction to Mr Bingley."

"Oh, but isn't he the easiest man to like!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"That's true, but do tell me what happened upon your arrival that has you proclaiming Mr Darcy's behavior so offensive? I could use a good story to distract me from this appalling headache."

Lizzy quickly recounted her experiences only omitting the mysterious emotions that had rushed through her head as she'd lain on the floor trapped underneath Darcy's warm heaviness. She still had no explanation for those. She remembered that as their eyes had locked for a moment, her heart had pounded in her constricted throat and her limbs had felt numb and prickly at the same time. Her confusion over the misplaced thrill she'd experienced only fueled her resentment for Mr Darcy. Or so she believed.

"Now, let's forget all about this nonsense," she said in conclusion, "and tell me how you're faring. At the very least, I'm glad to find your spirits uplifted."

A sudden bout of coughing sent Jane spasming with strain. When the fit eventually subsided, she finally opened her eyes and Elizabeth could undoubtedly spot the signs of high fever in her sister's shimmering eyes.

A knock on the door announced the sisters were about to have company and Lizzy was glad their conversation had steered towards the topic of Jane's health, so none of their previous banter could be overheard. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst were announced in the room. The two flew in with the sweeping energy of large birds of prey and settled by the sickbed, their faces betraying nothing but utter anguish at the sight of their indisposed guest.

"Jane, dear," Miss Bingley chirped, "you simply must say you are feeling the slightest bit better. I cannot tame the guilt of having inflicted such misery on you. We should have sent our carriage to bring you here the moment we realized you didn't have one at your disposal."

"We most certainly should have," Mrs Hurst echoed, but her voice contained only a fraction of the superiority emanating from her sister. "Apart from the need to abate our worry about your condition, we came to inform you the apothecary has arrived."

Jane only smiled affably, apparently taking her hostesses' concern to be genuine. Elizabeth, on the other hand, found herself pursing her lips tightly as to not divulge her distaste for Miss Bingley's hypocrisy. Still, the persistent affection they showed for Jane somewhat softened her.

"I must say, I am quite distrustful of doctors in general," Caroline commented. "I often find that their overpriced remedies are no more effective than the suspicious concoctions of any itinerant quack."

"Oh, I must agree," Mrs Hurst said, fanning herself and nodding vigorously. "I've always said that a good dose of brandy and some rhubarb root powder can cure nearly all ailments. I always have both on hand when I'm traveling."

"And what about this Mr Jones? Have you found him at all helpful in the past?" Caroline asked casually and the hint of condescension returned to her voice.

"Mr Jones is most professional and knowledgeable as far as I know," Jane said quickly before Elizabeth had had the chance to issue a facetious remark. "His draughts and sound advice have delivered us from many a trying ailment over the years. I can only highly recommend his services."

"I've always found men of medicine's most deficient quality to be their lack of discretion…" Miss Bingley said.

"That's certainly not the case with our Mr Jones," Elizabeth assured her, "for he is a man of commendable integrity. He doesn't give in to even the most seductive invitations to entertain with stories at the expense of his patients."

"Hm," Caroline mused aloud. "I shall definitely seek out his expertise then. I've had this minor recurring complaint that's been persistently troubling me. Of course, I'll only borrow Mr Jones once he's finished examining you, dear Jane, and once he's assured us you are on the mend."

The next quarter hour felt particularly burdensome for Elizabeth, who neither found the mundane topics of conversation stimulating, nor could she enjoy Jane's undivided attention. She wished the Bingley sisters would suddenly remember an important appointment they needed to attend, but with Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy out of the house, the women of Netherfield had little else to occupy their time. Jane and the meticulous dissection of her symptoms were the only bits of entertainment Caroline and Luisa had at the moment.

Finally, Mr Jones was announced and the visitors were asked to leave the patient's room while his examination took place. Before Elizabeth could ask where she should wait, the Bingley sisters had disappeared in the maze of corridors and Jane's door closed in her face, leaving her alone in the gallery.

To pass the time she decided to take a stroll down the long narrow passage and admire the oil paint family portraits and artwork that hung from the walls. She walked past several closed doors similar in design and eventually, without realizing, took too many turns to be able to find her way back to Jane's room easily.

It took a while before she started to recognize some of the oil paintings she'd seen earlier and Elizabeth knew she was on the right path again. In her estimation, Jane's exam should have concluded by now and she was eager to hear Mr Jones opinion. Now the only trouble she faced was discerning which particular door led to Jane's room. The corridor remained silent and deserted.

In the end, Elizabeth was relieved to hear Mr Jones' voice behind one of the massive closed doors. As she neared it, she strained her ears to ascertain that the apothecary had indeed finished his examination before she barged in. She hoped a maid would appear and help her out of the awkward situation.

The more she listened, the more she became convinced that she had the wrong door altogether.

"I would certainly not condone this practice, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth overheard Mr Jone's raised voice. She put a hand to her mouth upon the sudden realization that she'd inadvertently listened in to Caroline Bingley's private consultation with the apothecary.

Lizzy was just about to walk away, deeply ashamed of her own lack of tact, when she heard the unmistakable voice of Miss Bingley.

"But you simply must!" she screeched. "I can't bear it any longer and you understand I have no other choice. After all, I'm with child."


	4. Chapter 4

**CS: Lovely readers, thank you so much for taking the time to read my story! I'm absolutely grateful for all your support and nothing makes me happier than reading your encouraging comments. Some of you have even made such insightful suggestions about the plot that I hadn't even considered. I believe the story has become better for it and I hope you enjoy this next installment. Again, a huge THANK YOU!**

CHAPTER 4

Elizabeth's face was still burning bright red from what she'd overheard as she finally made her way back to Jane's room and settled in an armchair next to the bed.

"Whatever is the matter, Lizzy?" Jane asked, concerned, for despite the worsened condition she was in, she could always detect when something was weighing heavily on her sister's mind.

Elizabeth considered sharing her newly acquired knowledge, but two things prevented her from coming forward. On the one hand, she knew that in her graciousness and delicacy Jane wouldn't approve of her reckless eavesdropping and might even chastise her for being indecorous. On the other hand, she was aware that a patient in the throes of high fever should not be excessively innervated. For now at least, she decided she should keep the secret to herself.

Of course, her resolution to not say a word didn't preclude her from wondering. How had such a calamity even occurred? She'd heard about similar horrific accounts of ladies falling into such disgrace, but only in the most vaguest of terms. She wished she had someone to confide in who could shed more light onto this mysterious subject though even the thought of discussing such matters with another body made her blush with mortification.

Lizzy decided to concentrate on Jane to avoid her own inner turmoil.

"I only lost my way to your room," she said, "and was starting to panic at the prospect of getting entangled in the maze of corridors and never making it back."

"Netherfield House is impressive in its size, isn't it?"

"Oh, impressive indeed," Lizzy said, envisioning more the scandals that went on behind closed doors.

"Here you are, Miss Eliza!" Miss Bingley's sharp voice sounded from the door, Mrs Hurst following in her footsteps. "We were worried you'd left without us having a chance to bid you farewell. Surely we wanted to offer you our carriage so you don't end up sharing poor Jane's fate. It is still beyond me how much you've risked by walking over such distance on your own!"

Elizabeth found it fascinating how a woman harboring such a vile secret could conduct herself so calmly and innocently.

"Leaving?" Jane said, flustered. "I'm sure Lizzy is planning on staying now that she's seen the state I'm in. My generous hosts would no doubt extend their invitation to you, Lizzy, once they realize the favorable effect you have on my recovery."

"But of course," Miss Bingley said lightly as if she'd been just about to suggest it herself. "The only problem being we're swiftly running out of clothes to lend to Miss Eliza given her aptitude for adventure."

Elizabeth couldn't fathom how Jane wasn't outraged with Caroline's insolence. She was certain the snide undertones of her words were completely lost on her sister who had closed her eyes peacefully again. Even in her sickness, Jane's face glowed with an ethereal light that softened her features and gave her the serene expression of a sleeping child.

"In that case, I'd be glad to stay," Elizabeth said, swallowing her indignation. "If you'd be so kind to send someone to fetch a fresh supply of clothes from Longbourn and announce my plans, I'd be grateful."

"What do you make of Elizabeth Bennet, Luisa?" Caroline asked later when the two of them had retired to their rooms to change.

Mrs Hurst, who had already changed into evening dress, sat on the edge of Caroline's bed and fiddled with the headdress her sister had selected to wear tonight. Caroline had already slipped on a fresh shift and was now standing in front of the full-length mirror as her maid fastened the laces of her stays and inserted the ivory busk at the front to improve her posture.

"I suppose I find her childish and rather brash," Luisa said after giving the matter some thought. "What with rolling on the floor with our Mr Darcy! I hope that was an honest accident and not some devious scheme she's resorted to in order to secure his attention."

The maid held two gowns in front of Caroline for her to make a choice and she settled on the one made of the flimsier muslin and with the lower-cut bodice. She wondered what Elizabeth would wear to dinner. She couldn't afford to be outshone by the newest arrival at their table. Then it dawned on her that she could, in fact, orchestrate Elizabeth's outfit herself and she smiled contentedly. Then she remembered the topic of conversation and immediately replaced her expression with a frown.

"Oh, please," Caroline said, touching her temples and wincing to show that even the memory pained her. "You know how _especially_ hard it was on me having to witness that utter disgrace."

Mrs Hurst was irritated that she had to wear lace caps instead of the beaded and feathered headdresses her unmarried sister could enjoy.

" _You_ especially?" Luisa asked, baffled. "How so?"

"Well, you can't say you've remained blind to Mr Darcy's obvious interest."

"In _you_ , you mean?" Luisa was now even more astounded, for she had noticed no particular attention Mr Darcy had paid her sister. To her knowledge, Caroline had been the one to insist their brother invite his distinguished friend to stay at Netherfield. Yet, she supposed with his cold and aloof temperament, Mr Darcy's interests were difficult to gauge. It wasn't entirely impossible that he could have shown Caroline some special consideration.

"Of course in me! Have you not noticed the smoldering glances, all the reasons and excuses he conjures to be in my company, all the subtle hints he conceals in seemingly innocent comments about my person?"

"I suppose, now that you mentioned it…" Luisa said, not entirely convinced. "But that's most fortunate then, isn't it? For who wouldn't long to ensnare such an esteemed gentleman."

" _Ensnare_?" Caroline scoffed. "Sister, you are being obscene. I've intended no such thing. I'm only sharing what has become apparent to me in the course of the past few days. It isn't my fault or my doing that Mr Darcy has had his eye on me for some time now."

"Has he approached you?"

"Not yet, but I see him struggling to invent reasons for us to remain unchaperoned, so he could reveal himself. I cannot fathom how you haven't pointed it out yourself!"

Mrs Hurst found nothing unfathomable about it since the two sisters had spent most of their time at Netherfield together, but she couldn't say there had been even one instance of Mr Darcy seeking out Caroline's private company.

"Really?" she said instead, arching her eyebrows. "So, are you then telling me that Miss Elizabeth is posing a threat to Mr Darcy's intentions towards you?"

"A threat is not how I would define it," Caroline said with a tired sigh. "I'd say more of a hindrance, what with her immediate attempts to entangle him in her improper schemes."

"I suppose so," Luisa said distractedly since she'd lost interest in the whole affair now that she clearly felt the pangs of hunger. "In any case, you shouldn't be bothered by her presence at all. I highly doubt that Mr Darcy would have any interest in a woman of her merits. What do you say, shall we go downstairs for dinner?"

Still waiting on the footman to return from Longbourn with her clothes, Elizabeth once again faced the conundrum of what to wear to dinner. She'd left Jane to rest and was shown to the room in which she'd previously changed. However, her borrowed dress looked nothing like presentable dinner wear and she wondered if she should use the fact as an excuse not to appear at dinner at all.

Lizzy ran her hands over the stains of dried filth Darcy's body had left on the muslin and unintentionally recalled the incident in the breakfast parlor. She'd never had another body lie on top of her and the mere thought that it had been Darcy's body she'd felt so profoundly and intimately left her flushed and confused. She couldn't help but acknowledge the excitement that had rushed to her head at that moment and it hadn't had anything to do with fear or repulsion, but rather provoked something mysterious and unfamiliar in her altogether.

Once again Elizabeth wished she could avoid dinner, so she wouldn't have to face her tormentor.

In the end, the choice was taken away from her as Teresa, the maid who'd helped her earlier, entered the room carrying yet another gown. As the girl laid it out on the bed, Lizzy noticed that the new dress wouldn't be much improvement on her current outfit. Faded and frayed, with a bodice so unfashionably high and skirts so unflatteringly voluminous, the gown looked more like a piece of clothing a lady would discard of or pass on to her dearest maid for it could no longer be used.

Still, she had no say in the matter, so she obediently let Teresa remove the stained gown and replace it with the new one. Surprisingly, it fit better than the one she'd taken off, so Elizabeth supposed its owner was different. Thinking back to Mrs Hurst's larger, plumper frame and Caroline's similar height and build to Elizabeth's own, it wasn't hard to presume who had supplied which gown. Elizabeth could only qualify such blatant display of superiority on Miss Bingley's part as infantile and pitiful.

Downstairs the party had already gathered for dinner when Elizabeth finally appeared and took her appointed seat between Mr Bingley on her right and Mr Hurst on her left. She couldn't help but notice a pronounced indifference in Mr Darcy's attitude towards her arrival, which only augmented her uncomfortable suspicion that she wasn't welcome at the dinner table. The way the lively conversations had seized the moment she entered the room made her feel like an intruder and she wished Jane would recover at once, so they could leave the blasted house.

"So, Miss Elizabeth," Bingley said, "don't leave us in suspense. Tell us all about Jane's latest condition. Has she improved at all?"

The way his voice rang with genuine concern finally eased Elizabeth's discomfort with being alone among strangers. Her eyes traveled around the table and seeing the sudden animation over the Bingley sisters' faces, realized that Jane's wellbeing was the only thing of mutual interest she had with the present company.

"Quite the opposite, I'm afraid," she said solemnly. "Despite Mr Jones indispensable draughts, she's still showing no progress."

An avalanche of complimentary questions followed from Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst, whose attempts to appear distressed on Jane's behalf were commendable if not entirely sincere. Mr Darcy, on the other hand, was as aloof as Mr Hurst was pointedly disinterested in the subject of Jane's health altogether. Hence his utterly inappropriate comment that the lamb chops had been roasted to perfection this time.

Once the subject of Jane was exhausted, there was truly not much else to discuss and after a few spiritless remarks on the dreadful weather, the conversation around the dinner table stalled completely. Elizabeth rushed through her main course in the hopes to retire before dinner was over as rude as that might appear.

At this point she doubted she could shock the Bingley sisters any more with her lack of refined manners than she'd already done. In addition, her drab attire as opposed to Caroline and Luisa's flattering, shimmering outfits seemed to emphasize the difference in their status.

Normally, that would hardly bother Elizabeth, but mysteriously enough, tonight she felt prickly and twitchy in both her dress and her own skin. She'd much prefer to look more presentable. Could it be because she wanted to make a better impression on Mr Darcy? She chased the unlikely thought away.

"Mr Darcy," Miss Bingley said in an attempt to revive the mood, "do tell us more about Pemberley. I can't help but picture it as the most elegant and magnificent of estates…"

Elizabeth used the short time it took Darcy to respond unenthusiastically to the invitation to observe him. The way he wasn't facing Miss Bingley and kept his face stern and uninviting told her he didn't take much pleasure in the social interaction. Or perhaps his companion or the mundane subject wasn't stimulating enough for him? His voice was lifeless and his expression jaded. It made her almost sympathize with poor Caroline for putting so much effort in cooing and exclaiming at his words and receiving so little in return.

Just when she was about to conclude he was the coldest, most unpleasant man she'd ever encountered, he raised his eyes and looked straight at her. The glance lasted all but a fleeting second and yet Elizabeth felt shaken. The intense gaze tore straight through her and both chilled and seared her heart if that were even possible. Despite her tattered dress, she felt naked and vulnerable as if he could peek past her veneer and see her essence underneath.

There seemed to be a silent challenge in his intense eyes. Or a threat. Or was it just sheer predatory menace?

As she stood up, quivering while muttering an excuse and rushing to the door, Elizabeth vowed to despise the man for unnerving her so profoundly and for lacking all human decency. She could only hope that she didn't need to endure his presence much longer or at all during her stay at Netherfield.

Little did she know how soon she'd be forced straight back into his unforgiving grip and how what she believed were her established feelings towards him could crumble in a matter of minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

As soon as Elizabeth left the dinner table, the evening lost all significance to Darcy. Dismally, he inspected the contents of his plate, looking for a distraction from Caroline's incessant drivel. He made sure he nodded and muttered in agreement at equal intervals, so as not to offend his companion, but his mind was still on Elizabeth.

Darcy considered fabricating an excuse of his own to leave the dining room, but what would he possibly do once free? Go after her? Chasing a lady who seemed appalled with him down the corridors of his friend's house would be completely out of character for him. _And out of sound mind_ , he added bitterly in his head.

No, he wouldn't act at all differently than he usually did and will refrain from revealing his growing curiosity for this exceptional woman. Perhaps this was just a passing fancy. After all, how much did he know about her besides the fact that she had a sharp tongue and the most enchantingly fine eyes he'd ever encountered? And a flair for getting herself into trouble…

"And her cheeks!" Miss Bingley squealed right in his ear. "They were most ruddy, in the way of a peasant woman on her way back from fieldwork."

Darcy was disoriented for a moment, having been lost in his perplexing thoughts, but he suddenly realized the conversation had moved on to focus on Elizabeth. He found it distasteful that Caroline had so much bile to spread almost as soon as she'd seen Elizabeth's back. Her sister's eagerness to slander Miss Bennet's name in her absence was equally abhorring.

"Perhaps we shouldn't be so harsh in judging her," Mrs Hurst said, "as she'd been at a disadvantage the moment she was born in such low family. Her ill-esteemed connections and country origin are bound to be apparent in her lack of decorum. I realize this is no excuse, for look how sweet Jane has turned out despite being faced with the same odds."

"I believe Miss Elizabeth Bennet has done quite well with these perilous odds you are pointing to," Darcy said, unexpectedly to himself jumping in defense of a near stranger he knew scarcely anything about.

Caroline's eyes almost flew out of their orbits. She'd anticipated that the habitually reticent Darcy would speak only to confirm her views. After all, he was known for his sensible adherence to the conventions of social class.

"Mr Darcy! Have you been bewitched by our little hussy?" she exclaimed. "I would never suppose you to be a man to condone the reckless impertinence of a country girl. Perhaps we should all take to the fields and stumble along for miles in the mud in order to gain your higher regard."

"There would be no need for that," Darcy said, tired of the subject, "for it takes a certain aptitude for adventure to derive pleasure from such an endeavor. I trust that if the present company were forced to exercise so vigorously, we'd return miserable and enervated."

"Are you placing Miss Elizabeth above us then?" Caroline asked, outraged.

"Not in the least," Darcy said. "I'm merely pointing out that we are comprised of entirely different talents and dispositions. Miss Bennet might deserve your critique but only in areas other than her bright spirits and propensity for adventure."

Seeing that she couldn't win such an argument and desperately wishing to steer the conversation away from Elizabeth's merits, Caroline seamlessly changed the topic to the innocent subject of horse riding. She had been anxious to hear Darcy express so strong an opinion and was chastising herself for even bringing up Elizabeth's name.

Nevertheless, in order to see her plan succeed, Caroline didn't need Darcy to despise Elizabeth. She could do with his defending her actions, but what she couldn't tolerate was him expressing a preference for Elizabeth in front of company. That could certainly turn into an obstruction to what she believed was an ingeniously devised scheme.

She also couldn't allow getting into heated conflict with Darcy. Not in public at the very least, so she promised herself she'd be more restrained from now on and would act as if Elizabeth's presence was nothing short of a minor nuisance. Before long, both Bennet sisters would leave and nothing would stand in her way.

Lost in her thoughts, Caroline barely registered Darcy's excuse as he rose from the table and fled the room as soon as the dessert plates had been collected.

Darcy crossed the main entrance hall and swerved towards the left wing, where the library was located, in the hopes of stealing a few silent moments to himself. He knew he'd be summoned back for coffee, but until then he could do without company.

Retiring to the only place where he knew he wouldn't be disturbed, he longed for a distraction, which he believed he could find only in a book. He sent away the footman who appeared out of nowhere to ask if he needed anything. On second thought, he called after the young man.

"Is the fire set in the library?" Darcy asked.

"I'm only just returning from making it, sir," the footman said with a quizzical expression. "The library is most warm and welcoming."

Was he blushing? Did he look at him oddly? Darcy dismissed the foolish thought. What was with the help today? He'd never paid that much attention to the servants in months. Then he reminded himself that Elizabeth hadn't been a servant and felt another pang of guilt for misclassifying her and offending her so gravely.

Darcy pulled the double doors and found himself in the snug silence of the large library, where every sound coming from the rest of the house was muffled by the thick carpeting and the heavy plush draperies. The fire crackled at the far end of the room and it smelled pleasantly of wood and old books.

He had to admit that although the furnishings were tasteful and the shelving exquisite, the Netherfield library was one of the most sparsely populated he'd ever seen. Knowing his friend, Darcy was aware that despite being an excellent companion and sportsman, Bingley wasn't too fond of literature and the academics.

A few collections of beautifully leather bound tomes decorated some of the bottom shelves, but the upper ones were mostly empty. Several volumes were piled on side tables. A settee had been pulled right in front of the fireplace and partially obscured the glow of the warm flames. Darcy was pleased he could settle right in front of the fire and read for a few minutes or simply ruminate on the events of the day.

He walked to the far end of the room, past the settee, and peered into the fire. Who would think it probable that there could be two accidental fires under one roof over the course of a single day? He couldn't help but recall the incident with Elizabeth's dress catching on the flames and his spontaneous reaction. He winced at the thought of having let impulse rather than reason guide his actions at the time.

A sudden rustling sound jolted him out of his meditation. He turned sharply and found himself face to face with the very object of his reverie.

Elizabeth Bennet was reclining on the settee, slowly raising herself, propping herself up on a gloved elbow. Though her coiffure was slightly disheveled from lying down, she'd never looked so spellbinding. Her dark eyes smoldered with the dancing flames reflected from the fire and her expression was both of consternation and indignance at having been disturbed. Her cheeks glowed with warmth and embarrassment at the same time.

For a moment, Darcy couldn't move, speak or even think.

He only now remembered the look the footman had given him upon his inquiring about the library. Apparently, the man had been aware that the room was already occupied but had known better than to question what he'd considered a secret rendezvous.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy said after finally recovering from the surprise. "You must forgive me. I didn't expect to find anyone here." Then he noticed the book spread open across Elizabeth's lap and his astonishment grew even further. "I didn't realize you were a reader," he let the words slip before he could censor them.

Elizabeth rearranged her dress to better cover her stockinged ankles, which had become exposed by her leisurely position. The last thing she'd expected was to encounter company in the only place of seclusion she could think of after she'd retired from dinner. Now that she'd been caught unawares, she'd assumed Mr Darcy would be so shocked at finding her there unaccompanied that he'd immediately take his leave. Instead, he was standing in front of her, casually making conversation.

For a moment, she contemplated leaving the room herself, for she didn't wish to compromise herself even more during her brief stay at Netherfield. However, Mr Darcy had managed to touch on the very subject she felt most passionate about and she secretly celebrated the opportunity to eradicate his offensive preconceived notions of her.

 _Just a few moments_ , she assured herself, burning with the desire to challenge him. _I'll speak to him for just a few moments and then I'll leave_.

"I didn't realize you considered yourself such an accomplished judge of both appearance and character," she said with a slight curve of her lips.

"On the contrary," Darcy said, flustered. "I've become increasingly aware of my shortcomings in this regard as I find it easier and easier to reconcile what is before my eyes with the inner aspects I come to learn."

"And yet in the course of a few hours you've proclaimed me both a servant and an illiterate."

"I sincerely hoped you've managed to put my error behind you. As for literature, I've happened upon too few a modern lady who claim reading as an enjoyable pastime."

"Perhaps that's the sort of lady you've naturally surrounded yourself with, but I find nothing more stimulating than becoming absorbed in the page."

"That's most commendable!" Darcy exclaimed, uncharacteristically enthusiastic. "I myself am an avid reader. In fact, if I need to be entirely honest, you haven't seized to offer surprises since your arrival to Netherfield."

"Of the pleasant kind, I hope," Elizabeth said and immediately regretted her brazenness. The conversation had taken an abrupt intimate turn that she hadn't been prepared for in the least and now she found herself trapped.

It hadn't been a moment after Elizabeth resolved herself to terminating this unguarded talk when the doors to the library opened with a loud creak. She sank into the settee, praying that it was just a servant that Mr Darcy would be sensible enough to send away before she was discovered. Instead, upon hearing a jarring voice all too familiar, Lizzy experienced a profound sense of doom. Closing her eyes was all she could bring herself to do.

"Ah, Mr Darcy, we've found you at last!" Caroline chided playfully.

Darcy felt his body stiffen as he watched the Bingley sisters approach and realized it was only moments before his secret companion was discovered.

"We were concerned that we've chased you away from the dinner table and came to offer our apologies," Miss Bingley continued.

"We also wanted to see if we couldn't interest you in a game of cards once we reconvene in the drawing room," Mrs Hurst added. "That is, once we've had the chance to look in on Jane Bennet and appease our constant worry over her condition."

"Though if you are impatient to play cards," Caroline said, "we could always hasten our visit as I'm sure Miss Elizabeth Bennet is tirelessly watching over her as we speak."

Darcy, who was never one to be at a loss for words, found himself a mere observer of the imminent disaster as the two sisters kept advancing into the room as they spoke. He realized it was upon him to diffuse the onslaught of misunderstanding that would result if Elizabeth were to be found out lounging quietly, still out of sight, before him.

"I'm most interested in a card game," he said quickly. "However, I'm afraid I need to delay the pleasure. I've received some worrisome correspondence from Pemberley today and I need a few moments of solitude to decide on a course of action. That's why I sought the privacy of the library, but I assure you I won't be long. I suppose my return will coincide with the end of your visit with Miss Bennet."

"Oh," Caroline said and finally stopped pacing forward. "We must apologize for disturbing your concentration then."

"It has not been our intention," Mrs Hurst echoed.

Relieved, Darcy was impatient to see the two ladies' backs as he could sense the trepidation in Elizabeth's luminous eyes now trained on him. He wondered if she realized she was looking straight at him while she strained to divine the outcome of the conversation from her hiding place.

All of a sudden, he realized she was no longer looking at him, but past him at the fire with her eyes growing larger and rounder. When he looked up at the two sisters who were just about to turn and leave, he noticed that they were preoccupied with something behind his back as well.

He didn't need to consider the possibilities too long as the smell hit his nose almost instantaneously. Smoke. Not again!

"What is with this house!" Caroline said, appalled. "Are all chimney-pieces faulty around here?"

"I've always said there was bound to be something wrong with Netherfield," Mrs Hurst said. "What with the price of rent for such a sprawling estate? Charles should sooner than later consider purchasing his own place. Perhaps somewhere as delightful as Pemberley."

"Oh, yes," Caroline said dreamily. "There is no place more…"

Darcy didn't hear her effusive praise for his estate as he turned to inspect the source of the pungent smoke. To his relief, it wasn't a fire this time, but simply a clogged chimney.

"Don't be alarmed, ladies," he said as he fought the stinging in his nose and eyes. "It's nothing a good chimney doctor couldn't remedy tomorrow."

"In this case, we simply refuse to let you linger behind," Caroline said. "You must join us at once or risk suffocating yourself with these nefarious fumes. We should send someone here at once to deal with the mess."

Darcy was grateful that he was presented with yet another opportunity to save Elizabeth from disgrace. If he left with the Bingleys now, Elizabeth could quietly slip out of the room later. He was just walking past the settee, giving Elizabeth a covert conspiratorial glance, when…

Lizzy couldn't fight the urge any longer. Just a few more seconds and she'd be safe, but the smoke tickled her nostrils mercilessly. Every fiber of her being was struggling to let out a burst of air, so in the end she closed her eyes and succumbed.

"Achoo!"

The alien sound rang loud and clear, augmented by the room's impressive acoustics. The party of three, which had almost reached the door, halted at once.


	6. Chapter 6

**CS Note: Goodness! I finally finished the story, though it took quite a bit longer than I initially thought. I had to pause for a while, because of some doubts I had about the plot, but I hope it has resolved itself nicely. I'm publishing the rest of the chapters in one go, except for the last two. The book is now published on all major retailers and I'll be adding the last two chapters shortly after it goes live on some retailers, which take longer to publish. An author friend who inspired me to go on this journey recommended the practice (because of cases of theft) and I hope you won't be offended. I promise you won't be waiting long :).**

 **I'm eagerly waiting for your thoughts as you have been so incredibly supportive and insightful in the past. Writing the story has been a blast and I can't wait to dive into my next one. I believe it's an addiction ;).**

 **So, without further delay, here goes the rest of Enchanting Mr. Darcy. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading. Enjoy! xoxo**

CHAPTER 6

Caroline Bingley was livid. She shuddered with resentment. The scene playing out in front of her was in utter discordance with her meticulously thought out plan. Not only was Mr Darcy not indifferent towards Elizabeth Bennet, but he appeared quite resourceful in devising small trysts with the newcomer. Rage churned inside her and her eyes squinted meanly, her fists clenched by her sides.

If only Elizabeth hadn't hurried to her sister's side as soon as she'd heard the news of Jane's indisposition. If only Jane hadn't taken such a long while to recuperate. If only…

Caroline realized wishful thinking wouldn't do much to advance her stratagem. She considered her options. She could either act scandalized at the secret meeting between Darcy and Elizabeth in agreement with social norms, or she could adopt a slightly cleverer attitude and rely upon good humor to provide a way out of humiliation to the guilty couple. She was certain that Mr Darcy would appreciate her stepping in to help, rather than attack, and currently all she was interested in was keeping in his good graces.

Of course, she could almost sense her sister bristling with the excitement of exposing the rendezvous. Caroline knew she needed to disappoint her by refusing to appear shocked, but that was part of her plan too. Earlier, when she'd tried to convince Luisa in Darcy's special interest towards herself, Luisa had sounded anything but persuaded. Caroline was determined to demonstrate that she was so certain of Darcy's affection, she wasn't in the least bit bothered by this _obvious misunderstanding_.

"Miss Elizabeth," she cried out, relaxing her stance and suppressing her natural aggravation at the situation. "But how is this possible?"

Mrs Hurst giggled quietly by her side, but Caroline wouldn't be tempted by this encouragement to be vicious. One glance at the dumbstruck Darcy fortified her resolve. He seemed at a complete loss for words and needed a way out.

As Elizabeth slowly emerged from her hiding place, her face burning bright red, Caroline's lips stretched into a most congenial smile.

"How fortunate that we found you!" Caroline continued and felt everyone directing their eyes at her. "If we'd left the room without you making yourself known, you might have suffocated in this terrible smoke."

Luisa scowled at her sister, but Caroline was relentless.

"I bet Mr Darcy has been so preoccupied with the bad news from Pemberley that he hasn't even noticed you taking a nap by the fire. Mr Darcy, I really hope the message you've received hasn't indeed been so grave that you would walk right past Miss Bennet here without realizing you weren't alone in the room. In any case, we should consider it a lucky coincidence that we hadn't yet left the library before we found poor Elizabeth trapped in this smoking hell."

It took all some time to adjust to the new scenario Caroline was proposing, but in the end Elizabeth herself picked up the thread of the obvious ploy.

"Thank you, Miss Bingley," she said humbly. "I didn't even consider the long walk to Netherfield would leave me so exhausted. My intention was to just sit down for a minute, but I must have dozed off. I can't recollect even hearing Mr Darcy entering the room or I'd have alerted him to my presence."

"Yes, indeed lucky," Darcy mumbled in turn. "With all the fires we've seen in one day, it's a near death risk being on one's own in this treacherous house."

"Yet, isn't it fortuitous that entirely by accident you always manage to be the one to save Miss Elizabeth from the disasters of a faulty fire," Caroline said, but realized her comment was a notch too snide, so she hurried to add, "Come, Elizabeth. You must join us back in the drawing room. Unless you are but still tired from your earlier expedition, that is."

It was clear to everyone involved, apart from Mrs Hurst, that this was some badly acted theater. In fact, the acting was all for her benefit, since she kept staring at her sister, Mr Darcy and Elizabeth in turn, trying to figure out why she'd gotten the whole situation wrong in the first place. She'd sincerely believed that she and Caroline had walked in on something inappropriate, but now it turned out there was a perfectly innocent explanation for everything. She concluded she must be truly bored if she kept seeing drama and scandal where there were none.

"Although I'd enjoy nothing more than an evening in your company," Elizabeth said, "I'm afraid my duty calls me elsewhere. Now that I feel quite refreshed after the short nap, I should visit Jane and stay by her side. That's what I'm here for and I wouldn't want to impose on your kindness anymore tonight."

Caroline smiled modestly, though inside she was triumphant. She'd achieved all she'd set out for. She'd shamed Darcy, got rid of Elizabeth for the rest of the evening and fooled Luisa. She couldn't be more pleased. Now she hoped that she'd taught the two adventurous souls a good lesson, so they wouldn't seek out each other's private company for the rest of Elizabeth Bennet's stay at Netherfield.

If all went well, she could proceed with her clever maneuver the very next day. All she needed to do from now on was to stay by Mr Darcy's side at all possible times. That wouldn't be so hard now that both of them knew he owed her. He would _have to_ endure her company.

"Oh, well, in that case, good night to you," Caroline said. "Though you shall be missed downstairs, we understand completely. We hope to see more of you tomorrow, preferably with some encouraging news about Jane."

The two sisters and Mr Darcy lined up by the door to let a still crimson-faced Elizabeth pass through. Darcy tried to catch her eye, but Elizabeth appeared so mortified, she only issued a fleeting smile in their general direction and scurried off upstairs.

Darcy wished he had a good enough excuse to retire to his own room. As things stood, however, he was in for another few hours of tedious conversation and humdrum card games. He knew better than to express his true feelings. After all, he'd spent the better half of his life concealing how he truly felt on the inside.

"After you, ladies," he said in an affected upbeat tone as he held the door for the sisters. "Let's see if we can end this day without another fire playing a trick on us and ruining our good spirits."

Caroline and Luisa chuckled gaily and led the way.

Elizabeth lay in her bed wide awake, though it was long past her usual bedtime. The only sounds around her came from the creaks and groans of the grand house settling itself for the night after all its residents had retired to their bedrooms.

Elizabeth ruminated the events of the day and the frenzy of emotions she felt left her restless, sleep eluding her well into the night. Her visit to Jane hadn't contributed much to her peace of mind. Her sister's condition had only deteriorated with the progression of the evening.

At least the footman had finally reappeared from his run to Longbourn with a valise packed with her clothes and grooming articles. After a day of relying on ill-fitting borrowed dresses, the familiarity of her own undergarments and nightgown against her skin felt comforting. Still, though the bed she rested upon was much superior in quality than her own, she kept tossing and turning in unsuccessful attempts to discover an agreeable position.

Her personal belongings hadn't been the only thing to arrive from Longbourn. A hastily scribbled note by Mrs Bennet's own sweeping hand accompanied the baggage. It warned Elizabeth in most grave terms that if she didn't make a swift return home, her mother would personally come to fetch her. In Mrs Bennet's estimation, Lizzy's stay at Netherfield not only unnecessarily intruded on her hosts' good favors, but capitally jeopardized Jane's prospects of departing the place happily engaged to Mr Bingley.

Elizabeth could only smile at her mother's unrealistic scheming and decided to dismiss the ultimatum. She longed to leave Netherfield herself, especially after the dramatic developments of the day, but abandoning Jane there in the state she was in seemed cruel.

Thankfully, despite her urgent call for Elizabeth's immediate return, Mrs Bennet hadn't found it objectionable to pack her daughter's books along with her clothes. Eventually, Elizabeth decided to settle on the window seat and read for a while until her eyes grew heavy with slumber. She peeled away the covers and struck a match to light the candle that rested on her nightstand. The flame crackled playfully as she took the silver candleholder to the cushioned seat.

For the second time today she opened a book, intending to get lost in a fictional world and put aside her whirling thoughts about Mr Darcy and the rest of the Netherfield inhabitants. Sadly, her eyes scurried along the pages without absorbing much of the content, her mind returning to the scene in the library.

If Mr Darcy posed an enigma, Caroline Bingley wasn't any more readable to Elizabeth. She had been convinced that Caroline was but an arrogant, conceited, and insensitive woman. Now she wondered if she was also extremely dim-witted in order to propose such a far-fetched explanation to finding Elizabeth and Darcy alone in the library. Either that, or she was, to Elizabeth's bewilderment, kind and sympathetic.

Then her mind quickly wandered off to the few private moments with Mr Darcy before the Bingley sisters had arrived. She shivered at the thought of how reckless she'd been to allow such an inappropriate encounter to last as long as it had. Then warmth washed over her body as she recounted Mr Darcy's low, deep voice, his penetrating eyes and his finely etched features made even more pronounced by the glint of fire in the dark room. While she had declared him most unattractive only days ago, now she wrestled with the thought that he wasn't, after all, entirely unappealing.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the windowpanes and brought her out of her reverie. Elizabeth realized the tip of her finger was still resting at the top of the page where she'd marked the spot in her reading. She gloomily observed that it was still raining outside and the prospect of spending another day indoors, cooped up with the Bingley sisters filled her with dread.

A slight commotion in the garden underneath her window caught her attention. The flickering candlelight reflecting off the window only made the night outside seem darker. Yet, Elizabeth was near certain she'd seen something move right by the small fountain in the near distance, by the rosebush archway. She blew off the flame and squinted toward the blurry landscape. Her breath steamed the glass and made it even more difficult to see anything.

She hadn't been mistaken. There indeed was a dark figure advancing on the path, visibly unhindered by the falling rain. The person wore a dark cloak, which gleamed in the faint moonlight, the fabric sleek with rainwater. When the mysterious silhouette reached the fountain, it suddenly stopped and the wide hood moved from side to side as if the person was looking furtively around.

Elizabeth held her breath as if she could be discovered in her observation spot, her eyes glued to the eerie being outside. Judging by the way the drenched cloak wrapped around its figure, she concluded that the person must be a woman, especially since from what could be gleaned from the cloak's design, it confirmed her guess.

At first, Lizzy supposed this was one of the maids who'd remembered an unfinished errand in the garden and had hurried outside to amend it. However, the woman was clearly not doing anything resembling work, the way she stood right under the whipping rain, looking about her. As much as Elizabeth strained to make out her features, the woman's face was shrouded in darkness and her irregular cloaked figure gave away nothing.

Just when she was about to chastise herself for being nosy and spying on an unsuspecting stranger, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of another body approaching the woman from the opposite direction. Evidently, the newcomer was a man, his height considerable in comparison to that of his companion. Lizzy couldn't tear her eyes away from what looked more and more like a secret meeting in the middle of the night.

But who were these people? The more she looked at them, the more she became convinced that they weren't servants. Their cloaks seemed luxurious enough to belong to a gentleman and a lady. Plus, if they were in fact servants, Lizzy doubted they'd choose the front garden for a meeting. After all, if they were caught, they could lose their jobs.

Not that the people before her eyes had any intention of being caught. On the contrary, they'd chosen the darkest time of night for their encounter and weather that was bound to keep everyone else indoors, including any awake members of the household.

Elizabeth regarded each of the Netherfield residents in turn, trying to divine the identities of the surreptitious couple. It couldn't be Mrs and Mr Hurst as they had the comfort of their own bedroom to discuss any issues they might have. It couldn't be the bedridden Jane either, which left her with Miss Bingley, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy.

On further thought, it seemed groundless to assume that a brother and a sister would need the covertness of a night meeting to discuss something of importance. That led Elizabeth to the conviction that the two figures undoubtedly belonged to Caroline and Mr Darcy.

The realization suddenly stabbed her like an ice pick.


	7. Chapter 7

Elizabeth tiptoed down the thickly carpeted corridor. Having been lost in the winding passageways of Netherfield once before, now she took careful note of her route and picked her way only through the sections of the house that were lit by candlelight.

She was still unsettled with the sight she'd witnessed earlier. She'd realized that after observing Caroline and Mr Darcy's escapade, sleep would be even more elusive than before she'd taken up her book. She longed to confide in Jane. She wasn't used to not having her closest confidant by her side as she'd shared even the most minute details of her life with her sister thus far. Aware that Jane was probably deeply asleep, Elizabeth had decided that if she couldn't speak to her, being close to Jane should at least partially alleviate her unease, so she'd ventured out of her room to visit her.

Yet another thing that bothered Lizzy had been her abrupt reaction to realizing Caroline and Mr Darcy must be meeting secretly alone at night. The squeezing emptiness in the pit of her stomach, the dizziness, the sudden blurring of her vision, the light spots dancing before her eyes…

What had been the source of her profound frustration? Had she simply been scandalized to see the immoral encounter or had it been something else? Something sinister that she wouldn't even admit before herself. Had she, even for a moment, been consumed by jealousy?

Elizabeth finally discerned the great staircase at the end of the passageway and hurried along. Once she reached it, she knew the way to Jane's room, having visited her sister several times that day. As she began descending to the second floor where the majority of bedrooms were situated, her mind returned to the scene outside. She couldn't help but think, now that her mind was clearer of emotion, that this had been no lovers' meeting at all. In fact, the couple had looked like it had been fighting.

Elizabeth had the feeling that for once she couldn't trust her instincts. What if she was just translating the exaggerated gestures and the vigorous nodding and hand-waving into something that it wasn't? What if she was seeing conflict where there was none just because she couldn't bear to accept the obvious, namely that Mr Darcy and Miss Bingley were engaged in a secret affair?

Her thoughts were cut short by an unexpected sight. A line of water drops had sunk into the carpet, marking a trace from the lower flight of stairs and onto the landing, continuing down the corridor that ran along the second floor. Elizabeth realized that these must have been freshly left by someone returning from outside. She bent down to inspect the faint spots, but saw no footprints left behind by muddy shoes.

Whoever had walked upstairs had apparently removed their shoes and had treaded barefoot, leaving only the raindrops as vestiges of their presence. Those must have rolled off the hem of the soaked cloak the person had been shrouded in.

Elizabeth felt her pulse race as she rose and followed the trace into the corridor. Her heart sank when she noticed it curved slightly and disappeared under a door. So, really, it had not been a servant after all. Her suspicions were confirmed. Another pang of the unfamiliar caustic feeling of jealousy jolted her body. Why did the thought of Mr Darcy meeting with Caroline Bingley hurt her so if, admittedly, she had no feelings for the arrogant man?

She thought she had completely lost her mind when she realized she was lingering too closely to the door, practically having glued her ear to the wooden panel. Whose bedroom was this? Elizabeth was irrationally desperate to find out when she suddenly pulled back.

She heard voices. Whoever was inside wasn't asleep and she took a tremendous risk loitering in front of the bedroom. The door could open at any moment and she would be exposed as the meddling busybody, that, she hated to admit, she was truly behaving like. Still, she couldn't bring herself to peel her ear off the wood before she'd irrevocably confirmed her speculations.

"Come now, darling," a woman's voice came muffled from inside. "It's dreadfully late and all I want is to get into bed and call it a day. We can discuss it tomorrow."

"As you wish," a male voice grumbled in response.

Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. The voices were unmistakable. They belonged to Mr and Mrs Hurst. As she heard footsteps scuttling across the floor inside, Lizzy rushed along the corridor and, making a swift turn, finally ducked into Jane's room.

At first, all she could register was her own laborious breathing and the panic that she'd wake up Jane with her panting. She inched towards the bed, trying to move as silently as possible, while at the same time taming her breath. One look at her sister told her that Jane was dreaming, her eyelids slightly aflutter and her chest rising evenly under the soft covers.

Elizabeth slumped in the armchair that had been pulled to the bedside and bustling thoughts flooded her mind. On the one hand, she felt relief. For some reason, an undercover meeting between Mr Darcy and Luisa Hurst seemed far more innocent than if the cloaked woman in the rain had been Caroline Bingley. On the other hand, Lizzy's confusion grew even deeper. Why would Mrs Hurst meet with Darcy under such clandestine circumstances?

Then another idea flashed through her head. What if the man hadn't been Mr Darcy at all? Considering that the couple had looked like it had been in a heated argument, was it conceivable that Luisa had made an enemy? Or did she have a secret lover? Had the man even been one of the Netherfield's occupants?

With so many questions and not enough in the way of a logical explanation, Elizabeth finally felt her head droop. Calmed by the rhythmical patter of the rain, eventually, she succumbed to the long-awaited sleep.

The morning found Elizabeth stiff and disoriented. She quickly rose, only to find her neck rigid and her limbs nearly numb. A gasp escaped her lips, but then she realized where she was and instantly rushed over to Jane's side to check on her. Fortunately, her sister was still sleeping, which Lizzy attributed to the still raging fever.

She poured fresh water into the large bowl on the bedside table and soaked a cloth in it. Then she carefully laid it over Jane's burning forehead. In Elizabeth's experience, with all the precautions they'd taken yesterday, Jane's fever should start to break today. At least that was her hope as she kissed her sister's cheek and slipped out of the room before she'd been found on the wrong floor.

As she made her way back to her own bedroom, Elizabeth thought how only after a day under the roof of Netherfield House she'd witnessed more shocking occurrences than in an entire year in the peaceful Longbourn. She willed herself not to dwell on last night's events, because she could drive herself mad trying to find a reasonable interpretation of what she'd seen. She reminded herself that she was a guest at Netherfield and was only there on account of her convalescing sister. Not to become entangled in baffling mysteries and scandalous discoveries…

Elizabeth made it back just in time before Teresa hustled into the room with a tray of fragrant tea and refreshments. The maid left her load at the dressing table and tactfully averted her gaze when she noticed the disheveled state her mistress was in, her dressing gown and hair attesting to a busy night out of bed. The girl didn't want Elizabeth to read the surprise and curiosity in her eyes.

"Did you sleep well, my lady?" Teresa asked, sounding entirely unperturbed.

"Why, yes, thank you," Lizzy mumbled as she sat down at the dressing table, readying herself for her morning routine. "Has the weather improved at all this morning?"

Both women realized this was just a feeble attempt at small talk, since the rain could no longer be heard outside and the first rays of sunshine were streaming in through the narrow crack in the drapes. Still, Teressa entered into a lengthy discussion of the beautiful day that awaited them while pouring water from the jug into the washbasin.

Once she was done freshening her face and hands, Teresa removed the piece of linen draped around her mistress' shoulders and helped her into a new set of clothes. Elizabeth was glad her mother had sent her favorite pale green muslin dress, edged with white lace and the set of lemon-colored kid gloves and slippers. After a day of wearing the Bingley sisters' throwaway dresses, she could finally relax into one that was tailored to her own figure. What a simple pretty dress did to lift one's spirits!

While Teresa busied herself with her hair, Elizabeth took a few sips of tea, already dreading the moment she was bound to leave her room. She wanted to prolong the luxurious moment of being tended to by the expert hands of the maid. When her morning toilette was completed, Elizabeth asked for paper and ink, intending to write home before she braved downstairs.

The maid disappeared to fetch the writing items. Lizzy walked over to the window seat and settled amid the cushions to admire the beautiful morning. After days of atrocious weather, it was finally a crisp bright morning, the green of the Netherfield grounds a deep and opulent hue. Her eyes wandered off to the small fountain and she was just about to sink back into the puzzling memory of last night, when her attention was drawn to the commotion at the main entrance.

Mr Rowley, the butler, was sending off a gentleman who was just mounting his horse, helped by a groomsman. The early hour was quite unusual for a visitor to already be leaving and Lizzy wasn't aware that there had been another man in the house overnight.

All fell into place when she recognized the gentleman to be none other than Mr Jones, the apothecary. It was still surprising that he'd visit Netherfield so early in the morning, but apothecaries were known for their busy schedules, so Elizabeth supposed he'd needed to get a prompt start on his rounds. That only meant that Mr Jones had already looked in on Jane and Lizzy regretted not being able to speak to him about his impression of the sick.

Teresa returned shortly with a writing kit and left her mistress to complete her correspondence in privacy. Elizabeth rushed through the note, assuring her mother that she'd be coming home the very same day, given that Jane has shown the slightest sign of improvement. She urged Mrs Bennet not to come as that would even further impose on the hospitality of Mr Bingley. She hoped her letter was convincing enough, since a scheming Mrs Bennet was the last thing the already turbulent climate at Netherfield needed.

Once she was done, Teresa appeared out of nowhere and offered to mail her note. Elizabeth could easily get used to such an efficient and attentive maid. Now that she couldn't put it off any longer, she decided to quickly stop by Jane's room and then join the others in the breakfast parlor.

Breakfast was a strained affair. There was none of the casual chatter of the previous day, if casual were even the proper way to describe it after so many fire accidents disturbing the peace in the house.

Mr Darcy was in a foul mood. He hadn't slept well. In fact, he hadn't slept at all, his mind plagued by budding feelings he had no room for in his preoccupied heart. Mr and Mrs Hurst seemed exceptionally civil to each other, the way couples behave after a significant argument.

Elizabeth was staring at her plate, piled with rolls and toast, unable to take a bite. She felt the tension in the room, though she still had no explanation to what particularly was going on in the house. She was even further disturbed after her visit to Jane, who despite appearing in much-improved spirits, told her she hadn't received Mr Jones in the morning.

Now Elizabeth pondered the possibility of the apothecary visiting Miss Bingley instead. After what she'd overheard yesterday, it wasn't unlikely that she'd want to act hastily to amend her situation. Still, it seemed a bit too rash to have the apothecary visit so soon. Elizabeth wished she was more knowledgeable about the nature of the mysterious state of being with child, but from where she stood right now, anything could be probable.

Elizabeth could always ask about Mr Jones' visit, mentioning that she'd seen him leave earlier, but she was afraid to bring Caroline's vindictiveness on herself. This had evidently been a covert visit. Even after Caroline's favorable disposition in the library last night, Lizzy wasn't entirely trustful of her good intentions.

The only two people oblivious to the stiffness of the others were Miss Bingley and her brother who were merrily planning the day ahead.

"I say, we take the carriage to Meryton!" Caroline said with the enthusiasm of a child. "After being cooped up in here for so long, even that prospect seems rather entertaining."

Elizabeth was stunned that with such a heavy matter weighing on Caroline's consciousness, she could be so nonchalant and jovial.

"What a lovely idea," Bingley said, clapping his hands together as if it had been the most ingenious suggestion he'd heard. "We can scout out a tavern or some such establishment and have luncheon out in the open."

"Oh, thoroughly," Caroline said. "Though my initial scrutiny of the local stores has only confirmed my expectation that there would be nothing worth buying in a town of such size and unpretentious populace, it could still be amusing to explore. I'm sure with a seasoned guide such as our own Miss Elizabeth we'd be able to see the charming aspects of Meryton that have eluded us thus far."

Elizabeth felt caught on the spot. The last thing she wanted to do was roam the streets of Meryton. Being familiar with her family's sentiments, no doubt the good weather had brought her mother and sisters out to the shops. She was desperate to avoid the awkwardness of such an encounter. Additionally, she felt she would be betraying Jane if she agreed to romp around in Meryton, while her sister could barely pass a morsel of food down her throat.

"As tempting as that might sound on such a day, I feel I'd be more useful here, at Jane's bedside," Elizabeth said modestly. "However, it would be a shame to waste the lovely weather, so you must go. I'd be happy to offer recommendations for places worth paying a visit to."

Caroline didn't insist and after a feeble attempt on Bingley's part to convince Elizabeth to join them, the matter was dropped. The Hursts didn't seem in the least bit concerned with whether she would join them or not and Mr Darcy's face remained overcast with dark clouds.

"We shall not waste another minute then!" Caroline chirped and rose from her seat. "Mr Darcy, I presume you're bored out of your mind already and are no doubt joining us for an outing?"

Darcy looked startled. He seemed so consumed by his own thoughts that he had barely registered the conversation that had taken place.

"Excuse me, Caroline," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm afraid the urgent business at Pemberley I received news of last night requires my immediate attention. Unfortunately, I will have to repair to my room and focus on disentangling that before I have any chance of enjoying myself with my friends."

His firm tone suggested his decision was final and he wasn't to be persuaded otherwise. Caroline's eyes flashed menacingly first at Elizabeth, then at Darcy, though her lips were still stretched in a contrived smile. To her, nothing could be less desirable than relinquishing her control over the two and leaving them alone in the house.

"Very well then," she said, short of snapping. "Though, of course, I feel bad you'd be depriving yourself in such pleasant weather."

The only thing Miss Bingley felt bad about was that she couldn't back out of her own plan now and stay behind. The prospect of spending the day in Meryton with her sister, brother, and brother-in-law seemed anything but entertaining in the light of the new circumstances.

"Enjoy yourselves on my behalf," Darcy said with an enigmatic smile.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Surely there was no urgent business from Pemberley that Mr Darcy needed to attend to and there were two distinct reasons for that. First of all, his estate was so masterfully managed by meticulously selected staff that rarely did an emergency arise out of thin air. Second, the master of the house would be the last person to be bothered with any such implausible emergency as his employees were perfectly capable of resolving any complications through their own faculties.

The single reason Darcy had evaded Caroline's invitation had been Elizabeth. After a night of being too preoccupied with visions of the newest house guest, he had simply determined that the best course of action would be to spend more time with her, rather than torture himself by trying to avoid her. In this way only would he be able to retrieve his peace of mind and settle his conflicting feelings about her.

Darcy was aware that trying to catch Elizabeth unsupervised would only bring more headache and undesirable obstacles. So, he had made up his mind that he'd wait for an opportune moment to talk to her when she'd feel safe and agreeable to his presence. Now all he had to do was wait, like a predator eager to ambush his prey.

He was of the resolute belief that a prolonged conversation with Elizabeth would either amend the idealistic portrait he'd painted of her in his mind's eye over the course of a single day, or worse, it would only solidify it.

Once the Meryton-bound party had departed, Darcy paced impatiently about the drawing room in search of an appropriate reason to request Elizabeth's company. He didn't need to rack his brain for too long as a convenient opportunity presented itself within the hour.

Upon hearing Elizabeth's animated voice right outside the drawing room, Darcy quickly settled in front of the writing desk, snatching the nearest piece of paper and affecting deep concentration. Soon Elizabeth walked in, accompanied by a maid Darcy didn't know the name of.

"Mr Darcy," she said when she noticed him. "Forgive me for disturbing you. If I'd known you were working here, I wouldn't have stopped by on my way out."

"You haven't disturbed me in the least," Darcy said with the friendliest tone he could muster. "In fact, I have just addressed the letter I was writing. You couldn't have come in at a better moment. You are on your way out you say? I thought you weren't interested in a constitutional."

"I've said nothing of the sort," Elizabeth said, blushing despite her effort to appear composed. "A walk in the Netherfield park would be perfectly acceptable. It was the long distance to Meryton I found objectionable in case Jane needed me."

"Ah, I see," Darcy said, smiling inwardly at this fortunate development. "And how is she? I hope well enough to finally be able to join us tonight?"

"As a matter of fact, she is. Thank you for your attention. She expressed the wish to rest for a bit, so I thought I'd use the time to get outside."

The maid's eyes were firmly trained on the floor, though her sharp ear didn't miss a word of the exchange. Though her voice was still trembling a bit, Elizabeth appeared much calmer in her presence.

"I don't fancy myself the most knowledgeable host, but perhaps I could offer to show you around?" Darcy asked.

Elizabeth quickly glanced at the maid and then determined that there was nothing inappropriate if Mr Darcy was willing to accompany them in the gardens. On top of that, it would be rude to turn down his humble proposal. She detected no threat in his words.

"That would be a pleasure, thank you!"

"May I further venture to suggest we take a horseback ride to explore the far corners of the estate? I believe it would provide us with excellent exercise without overtiring us and you can make it promptly back should your sister need you."

Elizabeth found herself blushing again. The suggestion wasn't unreasonable or improper, but she was embarrassed to admit she didn't know how to ride a horse. Still, there was no way around the subject.

"I'm afraid I must disappoint you," she said, lowering her gaze, "but I am no horsewoman. I've always preferred walking, so I've never gotten around to learning. My sister, Jane, is an excellent rider, but apparently the skill doesn't run in the family and is particular to her."

Darcy hadn't known a woman in his circles that wasn't proficient in horseback riding, so he was taken aback. Inadvertently, he'd touched on a topic that might offend Elizabeth and he trusted he'd done enough offending for her short stay in Netherfield. He looked for a way out that wouldn't injure her pride and would still allow them to spend some quality time together.

"Let me assure you, then," he said, "that it is the easiest skill to pick up with proper instruction. I myself have turned my own sister from a sworn walker into a confident rider in a matter of days."

That was a lie, even when told in good intention. Darcy's sister had been afforded the most distinguished equestrian tutors, but he didn't find it necessary to elaborate on the fact. Darcy was convinced that his own competence would suffice in teaching Elizabeth the very basics of the sport.

"I'm not sure I shall be the most pliant student…" Elizabeth said, not because she was looking to avoid his company, but because she didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of him.

"Let me at least remedy the fact you don't know how to mount a horse. If you find yourself not enjoying the contact with these majestic animals after all, we can abandon the effort altogether. I still believe that it could turn into one of the most gratifying pastimes you've experienced."

"Very well," Elizabeth said. The last thing she wanted to project was cowardice. Despite fearing that she would make a spectacle of herself in front of Mr Darcy, she was more concerned about shying away from the occasion to see him in a new light—that of a teacher. "The only remaining problem being that I haven't any suitable riding attire."

"No problem at all," Darcy assured her, then turned to the maid, "Could you, please, see that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is properly equipped for a morning ride? Let's meet in front of the stables in, say, half an hour, so we don't miss the finest hours of the day."

Elizabeth felt a rush of eager anticipation as she walked back to her room. The more she was trying to consciously dislike Mr Darcy, the more he presented himself as the increasingly charming gentleman that made it harder and harder to do so. Usually a correct judge of character, Elizabeth was thrown by her inability to place him within the confines of a personality mold. One moment he was infuriating, while in the next, he redeemed himself by being sweet and considerate.

Still the conjecture that it had been him in the rain by the fountain last night, meeting with Luisa Hurst, left a bitter taste in her mouth. Perhaps he was only masterful at concealing his true nature.

There was only one way to find out.

Teresa escorted Elizabeth as far as the stables where she left her in the company of Mr Darcy and a small team of groomsmen and stable boys, and returned to her duties indoors.

Elizabeth was once again resigned to donning a borrowed riding ensemble. She was covered with a habit of sturdy fabric, suitable for a day out, and wore a chemisette with a high frilled collar to protect her neck from exposure to the sun. For the lack of a riding hat, on her head she had one of her own bonnets, but she'd selected the only one she had at her disposal, which had a veil attached to the front. That way she could keep sunlight, dirt and insects off her face should she happen to master riding as easily as Mr Darcy had painted it.

"Ah, Miss Bennet," Darcy called out cheerfully, leading a mare with a freshly groomed, lustrous chestnut pelt towards her. "Just in time. I've just consulted the chief groomsman on the most suitable horse for our purposes and he's recommended this beautiful animal. She's been well trained to handle the sidesaddle and she's quite amiable in character."

Elizabeth, who had been calm and excited on her way to the stables, suddenly felt intimidated by the prospect of mounting the large agile animal. She had rarely been in a situation where she'd doubted herself or her abilities and now she was in the hands of a man she hadn't fully made up her mind about, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

"Perhaps we should leave the whole endeavor for a later time," she said timidly. "I'm afraid I might have overestimated my inclination for venturing into the new."

"Nonsense!" Darcy said. "Come. Place your hand between her eyes and rub her. Horses are quite fond of human contact, I assure you."

Darcy almost reached to guide Elizabeth's hesitant hand to the horse's forehead, but seemed to remember himself and pulled back. She swallowed with difficulty, her throat constricted with nervousness, and finally dared to touch the mare. Even through her glove, she could feel the warmth and softness of the animal's fur. The horse puffed and signed in a friendly manner, enjoying her attentions.

Encouraged, Elizabeth started patting her long mane, gently speaking into her ear. Completely engrossed by the magnificence of the mare, she couldn't notice the peculiar look in Darcy's eyes as he observed the encounter.

"Do you deem yourself ready then?" he asked in the end, though he could spend an eternity gazing at the captivating scene before him.

"I doubt I'd feel ready before I have a try at it, but I must agree with you on the splendor of the horse. I do believe she's helping me collect my resolve."

Meanwhile, a stable boy had brought Darcy's own black stallion out. The sleek muscular animal was far more menacing than the tame mare and better suited to a man's vigorous and forceful nature. A wide green meadow stretched right in front of the stables, its hue vibrant with yesterday's rain. Darcy suggested they practice there first. He took into account the fact that they were still in plain view from the stable's staff, so there would be no questioning Elizabeth's virtue.

Once the mare had been securely saddled, Darcy led her out onto the grass and Elizabeth followed. After a quick instruction, he laced his fingers together to give her a step up. Elizabeth put her foot into the stirrup and placed a trembling hand on his shoulder for support. Then, with a gentle push of Darcy's hands round her waist, she managed to heave herself up onto the saddle with surprising ease.

Darcy was shaken for a moment. This had been only the second time he'd touched Elizabeth after the fiasco with the burned dress the previous day, but when he'd felt her fingers clasp his shoulder and her lightness as he propelled her upwards onto the horse, he was overtaken by an unfamiliar thrill. It wasn't the base lust a man felt for a member of the fairer sex, but a sweet elation with the sheer closeness of her. He was nothing short of enchanted.

"How are you faring?" he asked to dissipate the giddiness that had taken over him.

When she gave him a reassuring nod, he continued to adjust the stirrup to her length. He noticed her modestly readjusting her skirts to cover her ankle while he was fumbling with the leather straps.

"Now look straight ahead," Darcy said, taking up the reigns. "Your shoulders should align with the horse's. Above all, try to relax, since the animal can smell agitation."

Elizabeth giggled as she felt the horse stir underneath her. This was an alien sensation altogether. It was made further so by Mr Darcy's unwavering patience and attention to her amateur attempts.

"Mr Darcy, you weren't exaggerating when you said you've easily transformed your sister into a rider," she said. "I feel at the same time comfortable and bold enough to continue with the lesson."

"I'm glad," Darcy said with a genuine smile. "I've always said…"

Only his words were cut short by a sudden flight of a swarm of tiny flies, which aggravated the mare and caused her to let out a loud neigh before storming off across the meadow. Darcy, who had succeeded in keeping hold of the reigns, almost lost his footing, but managed to spare himself the indignity of being dragged along the grass or worse, of letting go of the horse and leaving Elizabeth to a disastrous fate.

Wobbling into place, he achieved a level of balance that let him direct the horse to run in a circle around him until she calmed herself. Holding on to the horse's mane for dear life, Elizabeth was white as a sheet. It was all she could do not to let out a terrified shriek.

Upon noticing her face, Darcy pulled on the reigns more urgently than he should have, because the agitated mare halted abruptly, shaking Elizabeth off her back. Darcy's immediate reaction to let go of the reigns and put his hands under Elizabeth's falling body was perhaps the only thing that saved her from seriously injuring herself.

She bounced softly into his embrace, letting out a desperate cry, and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. The shock of the wild ride and the unexpected fall had left her almost unconscious with fear. Her eyes were tightly shut as if the mere thought of opening them horrified her.

Driven by impulse, rather than propriety, Darcy hugged her closer to his chest in an attempt to stop her shaking and let her know she'd found safety. The guilt of not foreseeing the accident left him speechless.

Elizabeth hardly knew what to say herself as she opened her eyes and found her face only inches away from Darcy's.


	9. Chapter 9

Despite never having been kissed, Elizabeth Bennet could swear this was the feeling a woman must get when desperately in need of a kiss. She could lose herself in the glittering darkness of Mr Darcy's eyes and she could melt in the velvety comfort of his embrace. It felt like his slightly parted lips begged for her skin and the intensity of his look spoke of his raw attraction.

The sentiment lasted all but a second as Elizabeth scrambled to free herself from Darcy's arms and find firm ground under her unsteady feet. Had she not urged herself to remember the limits of propriety, who knew what catastrophe could have ensued. She reprimanded herself for her frivolity, realizing Mr Darcy didn't necessarily share her amorous impulses. Her humiliation would know no bounds if she'd approached a man who was not romantically interested in her, but was merely helping a woman in a crisis, the way any true gentleman would.

Elizabeth arranged her dress just in time before a flock of concerned groomsmen who had witnessed the scene scurried across the meadow to the couple's rescue. One of them quickly restrained the still agitated horse, while the rest piled around Elizabeth and Mr Darcy to see if they hadn't been injured or were in need of assistance.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy finally spoke in a grave tone. "I need to apologize most deeply. It hasn't been a day since the fire accident and here I have jeopardized your life again. If I could blame bad fortune on yesterday's incident, then after today's it appears that my negligence is the main culprit. If you decided to cut your stay in Netherfield short on my account or avoid my company from now on, I assure you, I would understand."

The way his voice sounded laden with guilt and regret, Elizabeth wished she still had her arms draped about his shoulders. She forced herself not to succumb to futile fantasies and smiled weakly.

"Mr Darcy, nothing of what transpired has been your fault. The way I see it is that you've saved my life twice now. It was my own clumsiness and lack of experience that brought the situation on in the first place. You're the one who should accept my apology."

Having lost the magic of the lovely day, the two decided to retire back to the house. Both mumbled excuses about critical tasks they needed to attend to to make the retreat more bearable. Both withdrew to their own rooms to avoid the need to prolong the embarrassing conversation.

Elizabeth didn't come down to the drawing room until the very late afternoon, which was just as well since no one summoned her downstairs. From the relative seclusion of the third floor she could barely hear the sounds of the household and could only guess what the rest of the Netherfield occupants were engaged in.

When it finally became rude of her to hide in her room, endlessly detailing the morning events in her mind, she decided it was appropriate to at least make an appearance downstairs. She quickly changed without employing the services of the maid and made her way to the drawing room, stopping by Jane's room first. As could be expected, Jane was dozing under the sedative influence of Mr Jones' draughts.

Her entrance coincided with Mr Bingley and Mr Hurst playing cards with Mrs Hurst as their disinterested audience, Mr Darcy writing a letter and Caroline Bingley pacing around the room restlessly.

"Ah, at last!" Caroline said with a dramatic sweep of her fan. "I'm to be saved from this tiresome company. Miss Elizabeth, come and entertain me with an account of your eventful morning. Please, don't spare any details! Mr Darcy has been dreadfully concise in his story. I'm afraid, I shall need more than that."

Elizabeth immediately knew the invitation for the trap that it was, set up by Caroline with the sole purpose of laughing at her expense. She was already regretting her decision to join the party in the drawing room, but it would be indelicate to retreat now. She had to stay and brave the hours until dinner, when she could claim exhaustion and leave them to their scathing discussions of her riding abilities.

"There really is not much to my morning that could prove entertaining. Unless, Miss Bingley, you find the account of a near-death accident diverting."

"Oh, not in the least," Caroline said, blushing slightly. "I just find it quite amusing that whenever you and Mr Darcy decide to romp about together, inevitably things end tragically. I wonder if you two shouldn't be forbidden to be in each other's company from now on!"

"Caroline," Mr Darcy said, without lifting his eyes from the letter he was writing, "let me remind you that in not a single instance have things ended tragically for either Miss Bennet or myself."

"Ha! Mr Darcy, I've never thought you to be one to take such pleasure in danger. If almost burning or having your ribs smashed under a horse's hoof aren't tragic outcomes, I don't know what is. I wonder what reckless activity you might take up next."

"Again, Caroline," Darcy said, exasperated, "none of the dark scenarios you are painting actually took place."

"Oh, well," Miss Bingley said casually. "I'm just concerned, that's all. Who knows when an innocent incident might turn deadly."

Elizabeth wondered if Caroline's obvious threat held any weight. Still, she had to admit that Miss Bingley's biting remarks weren't entirely unfounded and were directed at the preposterous amount of time she'd spent alone with Mr Darcy in just two short days. She was afraid that the turmoil of feelings she was experiencing was compromising her self-control.

She decided it was time to remedy the situation and at least attempt to be a respectable guest at Netherfield who didn't draw unnecessary attention to herself at every turn.

On the other hand, Caroline realized she'd gone too far by the way Darcy's eyes flashed at her. She looked at her sister, who had completely lost interest in the card game and was listening intently to their banter. Caroline resolved to be more careful in letting her true feelings show. If anything, she should work harder on showing Luisa where Mr Darcy's affections stood.

"I must have given the wrong impression," Elizabeth said to put a stop to the uneasy silence. "Monopolizing Mr Darcy's time has not been my intention and perhaps I've been rightfully punished for neglecting to afford Jane with all my time and care. I assure you, you can claim all of Mr Darcy's attention from now on as I intend to fully concentrate on Jane's recovery for the rest of my stay."

"How kind of you, Miss Elizabeth!" Darcy said. "I'm pleased you ladies find it so acceptable to barter over my time and attention. Given how dangerous my company is, I wonder how I ever end up with a partner for anything."

"Don't be petulant, Mr Darcy," Miss Bingley said. "I feel like we need to lighten the mood. How about some music? I've heard Miss Elizabeth is an excellent performer. Is it not so, Miss Eliza?"

Elizabeth was relieved at the abrupt turn in the conversation. She wasn't the least bit eager to further discuss Mr Darcy and herself as an item. She doubted Caroline had heard anything regarding her musical skills, but she took the opportunity regardless.

"I'd say I'm decent at best," she said.

"Oh, don't be so modest. I'm sure Mr Darcy is dying to dance. It would be a shame not to afford him the chance."

"Perhaps I have not made it clear that I'm working on my correspondence," Darcy said crossly. He wasn't in the least bit interested in dancing. His mind was preoccupied with Elizabeth's words.

Had she taken him up on the offer to avoid his company from now on? Had he mistakenly recognized an attraction in her eyes that didn't exist? Had his imagination played a trick on him to account for his utter inexperience in romantic feelings? His worst fear realized would be to allow such romantic feelings to grow for a woman who clearly despised him.

"Finish that letter quick!" Caroline urged. "With Elizabeth's threat to deprive us of her company from now on, I'm anxious to extract the most of this last opportunity to enjoy her presence."

Elizabeth bit her lip. Caroline Bingley was impossible! So arrogant, so caustic! Elizabeth was burning with indignation. If she'd quietly taken Caroline's blows up to now, she could feel her patience wearing thin.

"Perhaps I could save Miss Eliza the effort and play a tune?" Luisa Hurst said out of nowhere.

"That would be delightful!" Elizabeth said. "I'm afraid I've been out of practice for a while and I wouldn't be able to do my alleged reputation justice."

Luisa sat at the piano, oblivious to the tension, and picked up a melody that was perfectly suited to dancing. Caroline's face tightened. Now that Elizabeth was not occupied at the piano, Mr Darcy could always invite her to dance instead of Caroline.

Which, to her horror, he did.

Caroline was furious. Suddenly the letter writing had lost all significance to Darcy when Elizabeth became available as a dance partner. Caroline flinched when she heard a distinct refusal coming from Miss Bennet. She was convinced that it was her turn to be asked, which despite being second choice she was eager to accept, but an invitation never came.

Caroline wished her sister's fingers would hit the piano keys more gingerly, so they'd finally hear the end of the torturous tune. However, her sister seemed to perversely enjoy drawing out each sound, extinguishing every hope of premature finish.

Following Elizabeth's refusal to dance, Darcy seemed to completely shut himself off from their company. He joined the cards table without much enthusiasm, leaving the three women to their own devices.

Elizabeth asked permission to use the writing desk to compose a letter of her own, the need for which she invented on the spot, so eventually Caroline was resigned to joining Mrs Hurst at the piano and taking part in her uninspired recital.

When she finally found a degree of peace at the writing table, Elizabeth picked up the pen and started scribbling nonsense on the large sheet of paper before her. She silently congratulated herself for managing to withstand Mr Darcy's cold charm when she declined his invitation to dance. Though it gave her immense pleasure to think that he wanted to dance with her, she was cautious enough and reminded herself to keep her distance, especially before Caroline's prying eyes.

Given the fortunate position of the desk, Elizabeth had the opportunity to scan the room covertly. Inevitably, her mind was drawn back to the mysteries of Caroline's secret pregnancy and the undercover meeting in the rain she'd witnessed the previous night.

It troubled her how Caroline could so masterfully keep her composure and even find the energy to be vicious under her precarious circumstances. She'd sounded so desperate in her confession to Mr Jones. Elizabeth was starting to doubt she'd even overheard the right thing. Imagining herself in a similar situation, she was certain she wouldn't be able to hold a normal conversation for fear of fainting with worry and shame. Either Caroline wasn't pregnant at all or she was an expert at keeping her outward composure.

Next, Elizabeth examined Mrs Hurst. The woman was the image of naivete. She didn't seem to have a scheming bone in her body and it became harder and harder to reconcile the idea of the artless woman with that of someone who'd be sneaking out in the middle of the night.

Finally, Elizabeth's attention shifted towards Mr Darcy, who was glumly inspecting his hand of cards. Though his reticence could be mistaken for the anxiety of keeping a secret, still she couldn't picture him as having anything to argue so vehemently with Mrs Hurst about.

All in all, her ruminations led nowhere. Life for Netherfield's few occupants appeared to go on as if nothing clandestine had happened. In the end, Elizabeth was reluctant to accept that she was the one who was trying to see a puzzle where there was none and she resolved to put the matter out of her head.

When she'd spent an unreasonably long time composing her letter, Elizabeth picked up her densely scratched sheet and began folding it. Only then did she notice out of the corner of her eye a discarded piece of blotting paper that still held the ink stains from the letter Mr Darcy had been writing.

Lizzy couldn't hold her curiosity and, realizing she was committing a grave sin, she pulled the piece of crumpled paper into her lap and out of sight. She couldn't believe what she was doing! Reading someone else's correspondence was one of the lowest acts she could think of. Yet, just the thought of possibly finding out what was in Mr Darcy's head made her abandon all measures of morality.

She squinted at the slanting words, copied in reverse over the piece of blotting paper. It was difficult to extract meaning from what looked like hieroglyphics. Her eyes landed on three short words that were easy enough to decipher, even when written in reverse.

 _…her fine eyes…_

"Miss Elizabeth?" a voice rang in her ear and startled her.

Elizabeth jumped in her seat, dropping the piece of paper under the table and only barely managing to kick it under her skirts. It was Caroline. Again. When was she going to retreat her claws from her victim? Lizzy stifled a groan of resentment. She hadn't even noticed the music had ceased.

"I see you've finally completed your letter. You seemed so lost in writing, I was beginning to worry our company is not stimulating enough for you."

"On the contrary," Elizabeth said. "I was simply rushing to relay the latest developments around Jane's health to my family, so I could sooner rejoin you."

Even as she was saying the lie, her heart was thumping with excitement and her pulse drummed against her temples. She couldn't help but wonder if the fine eyes Mr Darcy spoke of in his letter were hers.

It looked like she was headed for another sleepless night.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day broke crisp and sunny, the clear blue skies and the lush spring scents inviting optimism. When Jane Bennet opened her eyes, she finally felt the fog of illness lift. Her head was light and fresh at last. She couldn't wait to spring out of bed as she felt she'd missed a lifetime being confined to the sickbed.

Jane had some recollection of her sister Elizabeth hovering above her, the vision interspersed with moments of darkness and delirium, so she wasn't certain it hadn't been a dream. In these blurry memories, Lizzy had been talking feverishly (or perhaps it had been Jane's fever talking?) about a secretly pregnant Miss Bingley, about a Mr Darcy waving his hands menacingly at Mrs Hurst out under the pouring rain, about a different Mr Darcy altogether who was kind and considerate and charming and had captured Elizabeth's dreams.

Since none of that made particular sense and Jane doubted it could all have happened in the two days she'd been bedridden, she rightfully concluded that it was all a figment of her imagination. She so eagerly anticipated the moment she could finally leave the oppressive seclusion of her room that she soon put all the nonsense out of her mind. Instead, she concentrated on picking something suitable to wear.

On another floor altogether, Elizabeth was waking up to a new day as well. During the long sleepless hours she'd become determined to find a way to confirm that Mr Darcy was indeed charmed by her. If that were so, it would be much easier for her to reconcile her own growing attraction to him.

It had been easy to detest him when she'd been convinced he was a self-important, condescending, insolent man. With each encounter, however, he'd grown sweeter, nobler and more magnanimous than she could have ever expected.

Of course, she couldn't just blatantly approach him. She should be more cunning about it, especially given the limited amount of time she had before it became inappropriate for her to extend her visit.

When she found out that Jane was already up and about, she realized that she had even less time than she'd thought. In fact, the two Bennet sisters could be leaving Netherfield any moment now, as soon as they found a means of transportation. Apparently, neither Jane would be able to walk the three miles back, nor would Lizzie venture near a horse anytime soon.

She couldn't dwell on it, however, since the news of Jane's recovery put her in an immediate good mood. She craved to be in her sister's company again. As soon as she'd completed her morning toilette, she made it expressly to Jane's room.

"Dearest Jane!" Elizabeth cried as she threw her hands around Jane's shoulders. "Tell me there isn't a trace of that hateful illness and you are feeling like your former self."

Jane returned the hug with equal affection.

"I still feel weak and a bit faint," she said, "but I see the end of it at last. I feel quite embarrassed I've become such an imposition to Mr Bingley and almost can't bear to face him after taking advantage of his kindness for so long."

"You shouldn't worry another second!" Lizzy assured her. "Mr Bingley has been nothing but overwhelmed with concern over your well-being. He'd be so pleased to see you recovered. I'm afraid I'm the one who has become the imposition. If it weren't for our scheming mother, we might have never set foot inside Netherfield."

"Would you have regretted that?" Jane asked with a sly smile. "Either you have been up to an adventurous sojourn or my imagination has run wild with the fever and all the draughts I've consumed."

"How can I regret something I'd have had no experience of?" Lizzy said. "If you are asking me whether I'm fond of turning my life on its head and becoming entangled in secrets I have no place in, then yes, I regret ever letting our reckless mother send you riding over here, then following along."

"So, it's true then! I have not dreamed it! My Lizzy is in love!"

"Hush!" Elizabeth hissed. "Whatever has gotten in your head! I've never used such potent phrasing to describe my confused feelings."

"But you have changed your mind about the abominable Mr Darcy, as you used to describe him."

Elizabeth took hold of Jane's pale hands and pulled her towards the edge of the bed. Both sat down and lowered their heads towards each other confidentially.

"I might have," she said shyly and lowered her long dark eyelashes. "I've come to see a side of him that has not been easily recognizable upon first meeting him. Despite his air of smugness and arrogance, he's turned out to have a kinder, more charitable core."

"And you have reason to believe he feels similarly about you, now, don't you?" Jane whispered excitedly.

"I'm not proud of how I've come to learn of it, but unless I am utterly delusional, I feel as though he's been quite favorable towards me in the past two days. I can't be certain, however."

"Oh, just picture our poor mother's calculations far exceeding what she'd bargained for!"

"Stop it, Jane!" Elizabeth said, her cheeks blooming with crimson. "You are assuming too far in advance. I'm not even sure the 'fine eyes' in his description were mine or…"

"But who else's? If there is a woman to capture the attention of such a refined, sophisticated man, it would be you and no one else."

"I believe you are too biased," Lizzy said with a smile and lightly nudged Jane's side. "The thing is, now that I've practically run out of opportunities to speak to Mr Darcy in private, and I've had more than my fair share of such moments, believe me, I doubt I'd be able to extract his true intentions towards me before we leave Netherfield. I'm not even sure how long he'd be staying with the Bingleys to begin with. As far as I know, he could be leaving for London today! Once we depart from Netherfield, I might never see him again!"

"Dear Lizzy," Jane said, "do you sincerely believe that a man as captivated by a woman as our Mr Darcy would simply leave before he's secured his interest's word? Still, to ease your mind, I have a proposition for you."

"And what would that be?" Lizzy asked, flustered. "You are not going to play a matchmaker, now, are you?"

"No, but I'll be playing a part alright. You say you need more time in Netherfield and we're here chiefly because of my indisposition. I'll simply pretend that I have not made a full recovery just yet. Just fetch me some needlework to distract myself and I'll spend another day in bed."

"I can't tell if you are being angelic or devious…"

"It doesn't need to be all day, mind you. I'm suffocating from being in here too long as we speak, so I might come downstairs for dinner and announce I'm feeling better."

"But how does your little ploy ensure Mr Darcy would reveal his feelings to me today of all days?"

"It doesn't, Lizzy," Jane said conspiratorially, "but it will give you an extra day to appease your suspicions. And perhaps find out more about the other two matters that you confided to me? It is awful of me to be so curious, but I can't even reconcile myself to the idea of Miss Bingley being with child and Mrs Hurst using the dark of the night for a secret meeting with an enemy or a lover. I'm most astonished you've even become privy to such scandals!"

"I agree, it is most disconcerting…"

A knock on the door announced the arrival of a maid, so Jane quickly slipped back under the covers and pulled a blanket up to her chin to hide she was already fully clothed. She winked at her sister and sank into an affected doze so masterfully played, Elizabeth half expected a light snore to escape her lips.

With nothing left to do, Lizzy made her way downstairs where she was promptly shown into the breakfast parlor. Though she kept a tight watch on Mr Darcy throughout the entire course of breakfast, she didn't as much as catch a glimpse of his eyes in her direction. The only thing she came to confirm was the wild flutter of butterfly wings in her stomach at his mere proximity.

The day wore on without anything of significance happening and Elizabeth started to regret ever agreeing to Jane's stratagem. If a quiet morning engaged in embroidery and a dull discourse with Mrs Hurst on the selection of local milliners was the price Jane had to pay for remaining imprisoned in her bedroom, then their mission could be considered a failure.

Elizabeth noted with bitterness that Miss Bingley had essentially glued herself to Mr Darcy. When she looked up from a faulty stitch she'd been disentangling, she saw her companion, Mrs Hurst, regarding something in the distance through the window with a smile. Elizabeth wasn't in the least bit interested in Luisa's fanciful daydreams, but out of courtesy she had to ask. The two hadn't spoken a word to each other for quite some time now.

"Mrs Hurst, do share what is it that you find so amusing. I could rather use a diversion from my worrisome thoughts."

"Oh, I'm just relieved that my sister has finally found a worthy match, that's all."

Alarmed, Elizabeth followed Mrs Hurst's gaze out the window and saw a merrily giggling Caroline Bingley walking arm in arm with a faintly smiling Mr Darcy in the shrubbery. Caroline was twirling her parasol as if she didn't have a care in the world, while Mr Darcy seemed, if not ecstatic to be in her company, then at least not opposed to it.

Suddenly Elizabeth felt so out of place that she had to put in an effort to remain in her seat. It was only now beginning to dawn on her what a blind fool she'd been. She wished she'd never expressed her feelings for Mr Darcy to another human being and that she'd never agreed to stay another minute in Netherfield. She had to pull on all of her strength to ask the next painful question.

"Mr Darcy, you mean?" she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Why, yes, who else?" Mrs Hurst replied with a snort. "It's not my place to discuss the matter outside the family, but I believe we should be hearing some good news any moment now." She was all cryptic smiles.

All Elizabeth could manage was a slight nod. She knew she needed to appear more elated at the news, but couldn't bring herself to even smile.

"I must admit, I was the last one to see the unlikely union, and Caroline hasn't as much as only briefly hinted at it, but the more I look at them together, the more I become aware of just how suitable a couple they would make."

Mrs Hurst's words sounded like a distant buzz in Elizabeth's ears. How could she have failed to see the obvious? The more she thought about it, the more she was able to discern the signs. Caroline's jealousy, Mr Darcy's teasing tone in his exchanges with her, their undoubted familiarity. Why had Elizabeth assumed that she could just walk to Netherfield and change the course of plans that had been in motion long before her appearance?

She was so dejected, she was barely registering Mrs Hurst's incessant chatter.

"What do you say, Miss Eliza?" Luisa asked emphatically as if she was repeating her question.

"You must excuse me, Mrs Hurst," Elizabeth said quickly. "My mind had wandered off to my own hopes of one day finding as suitable a match as your sister has. What was it you were asking?"

"Oh, I was just suggesting we go for a stroll ourselves. Of course, it wouldn't be appropriate to intercept Caroline and Mr Darcy's route at a moment when they clearly wish to be alone, so we should take a different path. What do you say?"

"I'm afraid I've already stalled downstairs too long. I had better return to my sick sister at once, but you should go ahead and join the party outside." Elizabeth glanced at the happy couple one last time before she added bitterly, "We wouldn't want them to be walking on their own, for propriety's sake. Not before the official engagement that is."

"Pray, please," Mrs Hurst whispered, "don't mention what I've shared perhaps rather prematurely. I shouldn't have been so garrulous. After all, such news is best enjoyed when coming at the right moment from the mouths of those involved."

"You have my word," Elizabeth said reassuringly and retreated upstairs with a heavy heart.

She didn't have the courage to face Jane just yet. Remembering their earlier conversation when she'd spoken as excitedly as a future bride, she cringed with humiliation and embarrassment. What would be even worse was facing Mr Darcy in the evening. She now hoped that all of her longing gazes at the breakfast table had gone undetected.

The shame was overwhelming.

She spent the rest of the afternoon sprawled on her bed, face buried into the soft pillow, muttering into the soft pillowcase and banging on the mattress with her fist.

The sudden thought appeared in her head like a lightning strike. The baby. It could be no one else's, but Mr Darcy's. Caroline Bingley had been so eerily calm despite the knowledge of the despicable sin she'd committed because she was already confident in her imminent marriage to Mr Darcy. But then, why would she be consulting Mr Jones for means to end the pregnancy?

Elizabeth realized she'd constructed a conjecture on a few overheard words that was so hopelessly removed from the truth that she now wondered how she'd invented it in the first place. Her mind had gone to a dark place and ascribed vile qualities to Caroline that weren't founded in reality. The far more believable explanation for her private consultation with the apothecary would be a sensitive condition or a pain associated with the pregnancy. After all, how much did Elizabeth know about this delicate womanly condition?

The final stab to Elizabeth's already wounded heart came when she remembered Mr Darcy's letter. Had he not but described the quality of his soon-to-be fiancee's eyes?

Unable to withstand the painful pangs of anguish any longer, Elizabeth burst into bitter tears, the ceaseless convulsions rocking her body and the helpless sobs swallowed by the pillow.


	11. Chapter 11

"Lizzy!" Jane gasped at the ghostly figure that slipped into her bedroom. "Whatever is the matter? Have you been crying?"

Though she had done her best to conceal the tell-tale markings of her despair, Elizabeth was clearly distraught. No one could discern the fact better than her sister, who'd known Elizabeth through all possible emotional states. The swollen circles underneath her eyes, the rosy lining above her upper lip, the fine net of red capillaries in the white of her eyes, the discreet sniffling all told Jane that Elizabeth was in pain.

"Jane, forgive me for leaving you here for so long," Lizzy said despondently. "I should have returned much sooner, but couldn't bear to face you in the condition I was in." Proud by nature, she would have never admitted to such weakness before anyone else but Jane.

"Has anything happened?" Jane said and sprung out of bed, the extra day of rest having improved her energy and fitness. She pulled her sister into a tight embrace and stroked her disheveled hair. "Do tell me all! Leave nothing out."

"Oh, Jane! I'm such a wretched fool."

Elizabeth quickly recounted what she'd learned from Luisa Hurst, as well as how this new knowledge affected all else she'd believed to be true.

"I wish we could just leave this place at once," she concluded, fighting another outburst of tears. "How insufferable that we haven't a carriage at our disposal and that good form doesn't allow us to simply slip out unnoticed."

"Elizabeth Bennet!" Jane snapped and shook her sister's shoulders gently. "Have you forgotten who you are? Clearly, I didn't realize that Mr Darcy had so swiftly claimed your heart, but you should not despair. If he is the man you describe him to be, fathering a secret child with Caroline Bingley out of wedlock and then proceeding to toy with your attentions, then he is not the least bit worthy of your time and tears. Remember how firm you were in your contempt towards him at the very beginning? Now pull on those initial feelings and raise your head high. We will weather one last dinner in this house and tomorrow we'll leave all of it behind."

Elizabeth was aware that Jane was right. Instantly, her misery was replaced with rightful anger. Not at Mr Darcy or Miss Bingley, but at herself and the spinelessness she'd let herself fall into. Yes, she could be captivated by a gallant, honorable Mr Darcy, but not by a deceitful, immoral one. As soon as she realized that she felt herself break free of the inconvenient attraction. Truly, Mr Darcy and Caroline Bingley deserved each other.

"You're much wiser than me, I must admit," she said with a crooked smile. "But what about you and Mr Bingley? Didn't you embark on this whole adventure to enjoy his company? You haven't had a single private word with him!"

"If Mr Bingley has any interest in me, I believe he knows where to find me. I don't need our mother's scheming to improve my chances with him."

It was quite disconcerting for Elizabeth to find that her older sister seemed to have switched identities with her. Jane was the rational, clear-headed, proud one now and Lizzy vowed to return to her former self, unaffected by the reckless palpitations of her misguided heart.

"Let's brave downstairs, shall we?" she asked. "With you in the room, dinner would be a much more bearable affair."

The two sisters had just changed into evening attire when they were summoned to the dining room. To her horror, Elizabeth was seated between Mr Hurst and Mr Darcy, while Jane took a seat next to Mr Bingley. After an effusive display of everyone's elation to see Jane recovered, the party settled down and quieter conversations started to take place between seat neighbors.

Desperate to avoid speaking to Mr Darcy, Elizabeth turned to Mr Hurst, who, she suspected, she didn't have a single point of interest in common with. Soon, her impressions were confirmed and after a few short grunts in response to the only questions she could think of asking him, Mr Hurst concentrated on his meal.

Elizabeth thought it wise to do the same, though she could feel Mr Darcy's eyes boring into her. Involuntarily, she shuddered.

Darcy had promised himself not to speak to Elizabeth Bennet. At least not in the congenial manner he'd afforded her thus far. He'd let go of his caution and now his peace was compromised.

After the riding accident the previous day, he'd thought of little else than Elizabeth's fine eyes, supple form, and sharp mind. He'd given himself in to these thoughts to the extent of experiencing physical pain at the inability to possess her.

Another thing that burdened him to no end was his inability to confide in anyone his secret admiration of the house guest. He'd had to satisfy his inner need to express his puzzling emotions by only briefly hinting at them in his letter to his sister, not that he'd expected her empathy, understanding or advice. By describing the quality of Elizabeth's eyes to the young Miss Darcy, he'd at least attempted to purge the vision of them from his mind.

Unsuccessfully.

On the other hand, he'd become increasingly aware of Miss Bingley's excessive attention to both him and Elizabeth Bennet. Caroline hadn't stopped teasing him or provoking Miss Elizabeth any chance she got and Darcy suspected he'd somehow managed to offend her. He had no explanation what the offense might constitute since there had never been anything but friendship between him and his closest friend's sister. He was convinced that she felt similarly.

Yet, in order not to give rise to superfluous tension, he'd elected to spend almost the entire day in her company to appease whatever petty womanly jealousies might be troubling her. He had learned that even in their capacity as mere friends, women expected time and attention and were easily distraught when they were feeling deprived. Especially on account of another woman.

His rather uneventful, even annoying morning taken up by leisurely strolls with Caroline in the garden had at least had one benefit. He had kept himself occupied, distracted and away from Miss Elizabeth. Not that he hadn't been wondering what she was doing at any given moment. He'd even caught himself craning his neck at every sound of another person approaching in the hopes that he'd accidentally meet her.

This had to stop.

Even now, at the dinner table, he could sense Elizabeth's uneasiness in her stilted attempts at conversation with Mr Hurst. His instinct was to jump in and save her from the need to discuss hunting gear and quail's nesting habits, a subject she was clearly poorly versed in. He managed to restrain himself, however, as he could feel Caroline's scrutinizing eyes following him.

Still, he could detect the faint scent of lily of the valley that Elizabeth's body exuded and it nearly made him lose track of the talk he'd been only half-heartedly taken part in.

A drink. That's what he needed to put his mind and body to rest. When he heard Bingley's offer to retire to the drawing room for a glass of brandy, he was relieved.

"Splendid!" he heard Caroline exclaim as if she'd been in dire need of a drink herself.

In fact, she busied herself like an industrious maid, pouring brandy for everyone and distributing glasses along with high-spirited encouragements for the party to sip faster. In her words, Jane's recovered health needed a proper celebration, but Darcy suspected that everyone was in need of unwinding.

Watching Elizabeth's cheeks turn rosy with warmth from the alcohol practically made him count the hours until he'd be free of her presence. He could handle a day of restraint, but not much longer and as a man well aware of his interests, he was not going to allow a country girl obliterate everything he'd believed about himself.

"Mr Darcy," Caroline said, "you seem awfully withdrawn. I thought brandy was supposed to loosen people. Shall I pour you another?"

Darcy pictured himself drunk. Lacking his clear senses, he'd be crawling to Elizabeth's side in no time. He'd be professing feelings and demanding to know how she felt about this and that. No, it was out of the question.

"Thank you, Caroline, but I've had enough for the evening."

"You mean to offend our dear Jane by refusing to raise a glass for her health?"

"Surely not," Darcy said gloomily and extended his hand to let Caroline top his glass.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Elizabeth's inability to close her eyes in peace was becoming a pattern during the restless nights at Netherfield. This time, however, it wasn't the Mr Darcy conundrum that kept her awake, but rather a debilitating headache.

In fact, the pains were so numbing to the mind, that Lizzy couldn't even bring herself to form a coherent thought. As a result, she writhed in her sheets, kicking and grabbing at them, the headache only worsening with her fussing. In the end, she began to suspect she'd had too much to drink after dinner. Never one to indulge in alcohol, Elizabeth had rarely brought herself to a state more serious than a mild lightheadedness as a result of drinking. This time, however, perhaps in an attempt to dull the constant whirl of emotions, she'd lost her temperance.

When a second glass of water did nothing to alleviate the torture, Elizabeth finally had an insight. Though she had nearly recovered, Jane still had Mr Jones' draughts lined up neatly on her bed stand. As far as Lizzy could remember, the obscurely written label on one of the vials read that the potion inside had been prescribed for migraines in particular.

The severe pains compromising her sound judgment, she decided to make her way down the winding passageways of Netherfield House once again. She didn't even take the time to properly wrap herself and left her bedroom in nothing but a flimsy robe barely fastened over her nightgown. In the dead of the night, she hoped she could make it to Jane's room unnoticed.

Elizabeth stumbled down the main staircase and swerved towards the second-floor corridor, a route already familiar to her from another nightly adventure, and immediately froze.

"I don't know what's come over me," a voice said from the landing on the first floor. It was Mr Darcy's unmistakable deep timbre, only now it sounded uncharacteristically raspy and wavering.

The way the voice increased in volume, it was obvious that Mr Darcy and whoever he was talking to were coming upstairs. Elizabeth sobered up somewhat at the prospect of being discovered wandering the house in her nightly garments. She started looking frantically around for a place to hide, but all she could see was the long corridor and the rows of tightly shut doors on either side.

She couldn't just venture into a room, because she knew the family's bedrooms were on this floor and she didn't want to end up facing a shocked Mr Bingley or an undressed Caroline. Eventually, when the strength of the voices indicated that the people were just about to ascend onto the landing, Elizabeth picked up her skirts and started running.

She reached the bottom of the corridor and quickly blew out the candles that lit the section. Then she crouched down in a corner under the tall window and prayed that it was dark enough for her form to blend into the shadows.

She needn't have worried so much as the couple that emerged at the other end of the corridor was so completely wrapped up in each other, they wouldn't have noticed her even if she were in plain sight. Elizabeth put a shaking hand over her parted in shock mouth. The two people were none other but Caroline and Mr Darcy themselves.

Lizzy had expected to feel crushed at another sight of the two of them together, but she was nowhere nearly prepared for the devastating feelings of observing them behave so recklessly.

Mr Darcy had his arm wrapped around Caroline's shoulder and he was wobbling along as if drunk. That's why, Elizabeth thought, his voice had sounded so unnatural. His eyes looked misty and his expression was unreadable. Was it pain that his features betrayed? Or the grotesque smile that stretched his lips was an expression of twisted amusement?

Caroline, on the other hand, had draped an arm about his waist, clutching at his coat. She was quietly chuckling, a sound all too indecent given the situation. She was floundering under her companion's considerable weight, but her face spoke nothing of the discomfort. She was glowing.

Elizabeth cringed at the view, aware of her heart speeding up and her chest tightening with revulsion. The throbbing in her head had become unbearable and she believed she was going to be sick, when events took an even more sordid turn. The couple, to Lizzy's horror, plunged together into one of the bedrooms, the massive door clicking shut behind them with a definitive thud.

Were it not the middle of the night, Elizabeth would have fled Netherfield right this minute, regardless of her splitting headache and inappropriate clothes. Even if she found physical relief in Mr Jones' draught, she doubted she could attain a peace of mind that would prevent her from returning time and time again to this horrid moment.

Here was the confirmation that Mrs Hurst hadn't just been idly gossiping and that all of Elizabeth's insights about Mr Darcy's character had been founded in fantasy.

Only the thought of being found curled up on the floor, weeping, propelled her to rise and make her way back to her bedroom. Tomorrow she would depart Netherfield as early as decency permitted and she would not as much as think back on its vile inhabitants.

From this moment on, Mr Darcy did not exist for her.

In the morning, Jane rightfully expressed concern over Elizabeth's health. Her sister looked as pale as a specter and her eyes were bloodshot and weary with dried tears.

"Dearest Lizzy, are you all right?" Jane said. "Do we need to prolong our stay on account of another illness?"

"Not in the least," Elizabeth said, quietly but firmly. "I believe, however, that a prolonged stay would invariably result in an illness. Jane, I'm determined to leave as soon as breakfast is over, but you don't need to come along. If you'd like to stay another—"

"Nonsense!" Jane said, offended. "My place is with you. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have come here in the first place."

Jane thought it tactful not to probe for details of Elizabeth's dejected mood. Not having known heartbreak, it was difficult for her to imagine what her sister was going through. However, simply sensing Elizabeth's inner torment left her with a bitter feeling of anxiety.

"I've packed," Elizabeth said shortly in response.

"I see, but as much as I share your eagerness to go home at once, I'm afraid we're stuck at Netherfield for a while. I've written mother yesterday while I was in bed, asking for the carriage, and whether it's the truth or some extension of her grand plans, she's only to spare it tomorrow morning."

"That's outrageous! We can't be prisoners here at the whim of a clearly unbalanced woman! I can barely make it through another never-ending breakfast, let alone spend an entire day here. While you must be a most welcome attendant at the Bingleys' table, I'm afraid I've overextended my presence."

"You need to take a deep breath, Lizzy. I understand you are upset, but the situation can't possibly be that grave."

Only, it was worse.

"If I could call on everyone's attention," Mr Darcy's low voice boomed over the breakfast table. He rose from his seat tentatively, pushing the chair back and smoothing his hair, and cleared his throat for a longer announcement.

Everyone abandoned their otherwise insipid talk and turned startled to face him. Elizabeth found her fingers trembling and her tea cup clinking jarringly against the saucer as she put it down. A moment's look at Caroline's beaming face before she focused on Darcy was enough to turn her stomach.

"This may come as rather a shock to some of you, but I can't conceal my intentions any longer."

His brow furrowed and Elizabeth cursed the momentary thought that this particular expression made him even more attractive. She wished she were running in a field to exhaust her exasperation, rather than being stuck to a chair and forced to steep in it.

Mr Darcy turned to Mr Bingley on his left and cleared his throat again.

"Dear friend," he started, "though I have not shared my motives with you previously, there has been an ulterior reason for my accepting your invitation to visit Netherfield." Darcy took a loaded breath and fired off the next words as if he wanted to get them out of his mouth as swiftly as possible. "I'm humbly asking for your blessing in receiving Miss Bingley's hand in marriage."

"Blast you, you sneaky man!" Bingley cried with a loud bang of his fist over the table. Then he burst into uncontrollable laughter. "How naive of me to think all you'd planned to do was go hunting with me! I can't think of a better piece of news! This is truly finding me astounded. How surreptitious a friend you are! How sly! But of course, but of course! Have you already discussed the matter with her? Caroline?"

"I've been honored to accept Mr Darcy's proposal this morning," Caroline said modestly, a subtle blush spreading over her cheeks.

As Mrs Hurst and Mr Bingley spoke one over the other, gushing at the unexpected development, gesturing wildly and ceaselessly exclaiming, Mr Darcy settled back on his seat, looking uncharacteristically forlorn for a man who'd just received a blessed permission to marry.

Jane appeared as if struck by lightning. It took her a moment to recover her manners and join in the effusive congratulations. Mr Hurst, whether it was due to his bovine temperament or his utter disinterest in the matter of marriages, was staring pointedly at his plate. He seemed occupied with thoughts entirely disconnected from the jubilant news.

Elizabeth knew she couldn't be in the room any longer. It wasn't a matter of propriety anymore, but rather a matter of survival. Feeling faint and jittery at the same time, she was aware that if she didn't leave in the midst of all the commotion, she'd make a scene of herself, collapsing to the floor.

With blood boiling in her veins, she rose unnoticed, picking up her skirts, and without bothering to announce her exit, slipped out of the room. Just outside the door, she heard Mr Bingley loudly asking for a drink more suitable than tea to commemorate the special moment.

As soon as she was out of earshot of the excitement that prevailed in the breakfast room, Elizabeth started running. She swept right past Mr Rowley who was headed for the parlor, but despite his questioningly raised eyebrows, she didn't stop to explain herself. There was only one thought in her mind. She should get out of here.

It was a matter of time before people calmed down from their exhilaration and started to remember the string of accidents and rendezvous she had experienced with Mr Darcy in the last few days. In the light of this morning's news, Elizabeth now looked like a harlot who'd engineered them all, entangling Mr Darcy in her schemes despite his existing commitment to another.

This wasn't the worst of all, however. It was the profound feeling of betrayal she was experiencing that she couldn't even find any grounds for. After all, Mr Darcy hadn't led her on in any way. He'd merely saved her one too many times.

Elizabeth didn't even pause to consider she wasn't wearing a cloak as she burst out of the front door and scurried down the wide stone staircase. Still in her slippers, her feet crunched in the pebbled driveway, the crisp morning air biting her ears and nose. Though the rough surface pinched her soles, she kept running through the lawn, then the shrubbery and out onto the lane that led to the stables.

She'd only now surmised that she couldn't walk the three miles home and it was too late to return to dress properly. Also, the walking would take too long. She needed a speedier means of escaping. She had a good piece of mind to give her mother for setting all this in motion in the first place.

Elizabeth slowed to catch her breath and, almost to the stable's gates, tried to recall yesterday's horseback riding lesson as much as the memory was rubbing salt in her wounds. Could she manage what Mr Darcy had taught her on her own? For one thing, she was no better dressed for riding than she was for walking, but at least the distance would seem shorter on horseback.

Just as she was about to duck inside the seemingly deserted building, the sound of hooves echoed from up the lane, stopping her in her tracks.

"Good day, Miss Elizabeth!" It was the familiar voice of Mr Jones.

If it weren't for decorum, Lizzy wouldn't even reply in the state she was in, but the high esteem she held the apothecary in made her stall at the door and smile with difficulty. He touched the brim of his hat.

"Mr Jones! Good day to you as well," she said, trying to sound casual. "What brings you here again? I suppose you've heard Jane's improved immensely as a result of your administrations."

"I couldn't be happier," Mr Jones said as he approached, easing his horse from a trot into a walk. "I'm on my way to see another patient, hoping that I've achieved a similar level of success with her as I have with your sister."

Elizabeth was taken aback. How could Mr Jones possibly equate healing Jane's fever with terminating Caroline's pregnancy? Was the latter even necessary now that Caroline was to be engaged to Mr Darcy?

Elizabeth's inquiry after the apothecary's business hadn't been entirely without motive, but she hadn't expected him to be so forthcoming about such gruesome a subject. She lowered her eyes, mortified, unable to think of a proper response.

The apothecary supplied it for her.

"Would you say that there's been at least a slight progress in Miss Bingley's condition?"

Elizabeth was speechless, not to mention outraged. She thought she knew Mr Jones to be a man of impeccable integrity and as such she would never expect him to discuss such a delicate subject with her.

The apothecary must have noticed her blanch with distress, because he hurried to explain himself.

"Are you alright, Miss Elizabeth? I didn't mean to place you in an awkward position. I was merely inquiring after Miss Bingley's sleep pattern. Has the insomnia improved at all as a result of the sleeping aids I've prescribed?"

Elizabeth's mind worked quickly. Sleeping aids? So, Mr Jones hadn't had a hand in terminating Caroline's precarious condition, but had rather treated a common complaint, most likely related to the very condition itself. Caroline was pregnant and she couldn't sleep as a result. Though this new information explained a lot, it left too many new questions unanswered.

Mainly, had she used the medication to relieve an existing problem of hers or had she applied it to someone else instead? Someone who didn't suffer from interrupted sleep at all.

 **CS Note: I hope you enjoyed the story so far! Just a reminder that the remaining two chapters will be posted very very shortly, as soon as the book goes live on some retailers. It is already published on most major retailers, so this shouldn't take long. Don't forget to let me know what you think as I'm practically glued to my computer, refreshing the site to see if there are any comments :) Thank you so much for reading and being a part of my writing journey!**


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